


Complicated

by ginevraknifehands, spudbud



Series: Complicated [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Minorly dubcon at the beginning, Oral Sex, Queer Feelings TMTM, SO MUCH FLUFF, Semi-Public Sex, This is a lot of porn folks, Unreliable Narrator, angst for a minute there, canon but make it gay, ends with feelings, gird your loins, slow emotional burn, starts with smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 108,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25361260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginevraknifehands/pseuds/ginevraknifehands, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spudbud/pseuds/spudbud
Summary: The first time it happens, Wu is tipsy and probably riding high off having drinks bought for him by admirers. The next time it happens, it's entirely Mako's fault.After that, it gets complicated.Or: Over the course of 108,000 words, we make the case that Wuko was canon the whole time.
Relationships: Bolin & Mako (Avatar), Bolin/Opal (Avatar), Korra/Asami Sato, Mako/Prince Wu (Avatar)
Series: Complicated [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911913
Comments: 854
Kudos: 1828
Collections: Stories that aren't really smut, Wuko Rights!, wuko fics for the soul <3





	1. Book 1, Chapter 1

The first time it happens, Wu is tipsy and probably riding high off having drinks bought for him by admirers.

Wu had dragged Mako first to some swanky restaurant and then out dancing, insisting Mako have a good time even though Mako’s literal job is to protect him and explicitly  not  to have a good time. 

He doesn't intervene in the giggling mob surrounding Wu at the bar until Wu’s hands land on him. Mako’s learned in the last six months  of  working for him that when Wu seeks him out like that, it’s because he’s done and wants to go home.

By now he’s had probably three shots and is a little unsteady on his feet. Not Mako-carry-me drunk, which is a whole other thing, but he leans on Mako as they make their way back to the car, talking some nonsense about the wild parties he'd attended in Ba Sing Se. He’s touchy on a good day, but when Wu gets any kind of alcohol in him it’s like a dam breaks. One hand is slung around Mako’s waist, curled into his uniform, and the other is gesturing wildly as he describes—something about dancing animals. Or people? Mako isn’t really listening.

He’s overly-warm against Mako’s side, his suit jacket draped over his shoulders and his skin a little sticky with the summer heat. 

Wu leans on him in the car, too, shoving his face into Mako’s shoulder for a moment. He’s still talking, and Mako has stopped pretending to listen. It’s all the same stuff: how great Wu’s life is, what a big deal he is, how different his life is from Mako’s. 

He doesn’t say the last part—Mako’s pretty sure Wu has no idea what his life is like, nor does he care—but it’s true all the same.

It’s a normal night, up until they get back to the hotel. As soon as the door closes Wu turns, strangely quiet, his eyes locked on Mako’s face. He wavers close to Mako, his hands sliding down Mako’s hips. His eyes flicker down. To Mako’s mouth, he realizes, his skin prickling with awareness.

“Wu,” Mako is frozen. Wu touches him all the time but there’s an intent here, behind his eyes, and something hot jolts through Mako when Wu shifts closer still. Their noses are almost touching. Mako’s breathing is the loudest thing in the room.

Then Wu’s lips touch his, just barely. 

Mako has no idea what comes over him. Maybe it’s the months of small touches and overt flirting. Maybe it’s that Wu has been especially frustrating for weeks now, calling Mako over to do the smallest things for him that definitely aren’t part of his job, and for some reason  Mako  does them anyway. Maybe Mako’s just lonely.

But he kisses Wu back.

Wu groans against him when he does. His hands grip Mako’s hips and he kisses Mako insistently.  It’s sort of wet and messy and Mako can taste the alcohol on his lips, which are all very good reasons that he should stop this before it gets farther, but he doesn’t do that. He wraps his arms around Wu instead, and pulls him closer, falling back against the door, and then they’re kissing sort of desperately and Mako stops thinking altogether.

His jacket falls open and Wu’s hands slide over his chest, his lips following them, kissing Mako through his shirt. Warm darkness crowds close around them. Mako never switched on the lights, and Wu is pooled in shadow at his feet. Mako’s hand got into his hair, at some point, he doesn’t know when, he can barely think for the fire under his skin.

Hands tug on the waist of Mako’s pants, and then Wu is on his knees, lips pressing to his stomach.  Something jolts through Mako like lightning. He makes a breathless noise, low and wanting, and then Wu’s lips slide  _down_ and Mako realizes all at once that he is uncomfortably hard in his too-tight uniform pants.

Wu’s lips press over his erection, trapped in his shorts, as he slides Mako’s pants down to the floor. Wu moans softly, and he looks up, eyes barely visible in the darkness. “I want,” Wu says, his voice low, hands dragging Mako’s shorts down slowly.

“Yeah,” Mako gasps, tightening his hand in Wu’s hair. It’s so soft, under his fingers, and Wu’s eyes are huge and dark in the gloom, and Mako wants him.  Wu moans softly, and pulls Mako’s shorts down. His cock bobs against his stomach.

Wu’s eyes drop to it, his mouth fallen open. “Fuck,” Wu breathes. Mako’s never heard him curse like that before.

“Fuck,” Mako repeats, letting his head thud back against the  door behind him. It’s the only thing keeping him up. 

Fingers slide along Mako’s cock, light at first, then Wu’s hand grips him tight, jerking slowly. It’s torturous. He think Wu might say something, but he can’t make out the words. Mako holds onto his head, trying to stop himself from pushing Wu closer, rocking his hips into Wu’s hand.

He feels a puff of breath, then lips slide along his cock and Wu’s tongue presses against the head. Then Wu’s lips wrap around him, and Mako has to grit his teeth against his own voice. His head is spinning with  _this is Wu_ and  _fuck I want this_ and this is Wu, on his knees like this, making tiny noises in the back of his throat. Wu, who is royalty, who Mako had to drag out of the spa earlier, who talks Mako’s ear off about nonsense.

Who takes Mako’s cock into his mouth, sliding his tongue along the underside, lips tight around him. Who moans softly and holds tight to Mako’s thigh, one hand still around the base. 

Mako shoves his hand into his own  teeth, biting down as he shoves his hips forward, too-fast, and almost pulls them back but Wu  groans  around him and keeps Mako’s hips right where they are, tugging him like he wants that, and then Mako is lost to the heat and wet of him, the slide of hot fingers on his skin.

Pleasure  spirals higher  as he thrusts into Wu’s mouth, who’s moaning and taking everything that Mako gives him like that’s all he wants. His hand lets go of Mako’s cock and he grips Mako’s ass, encouraging him to thrust harder until Mako’s not even leaning on the wall anymore, holding onto Wu for support. The world contracts, and Mako stutters out a warning but Wu just grips his thigh and tugs. Mako comes in his mouth with a yell that he forgets to muffle.

When he comes back to himself, Wu is still on his knees, his head pillowed on Mako’s thigh, breathing hard.

Mako feels sort of hazy, like it’s someone else who lifts his hand out of Wu’s hair and lets it drag down his face just to feel the shape of it. He’s still panting, too, his legs shaky. 

But it’s him who tugs Wu up off his knees and into a messy kiss. Wu isn’t hard anymore, although he was. He must have come just from that. The thought makes him dizzy. This whole thing makes him dizzy. It feels like they’re in the spirit world, closed in by stifling heat and wrapped around each other.   
  


* * *

  
The next day, Wu is weird. Not weird as in any weirder than his normal self but weird as in he’s completely normal. He acts like nothing happened. He acts like Mako didn’t come in his mouth last night.

He flirts with Mako, but he’s always done that. Only now, Mako realizes that’s what’s happening, and also that he should have realized it earlier. Some detective he is. When Wu whines about something or when he asks Mako to do something silly, he’s flirting. He’s trying to get Mako’s attention.

Today, Wu drags him to the zoo. Again. Even though they went last week. After about an hour of doing the exact same circuit, looking at the exact same animals, he grabs onto Mako’s arm and drags him forward with a too-loud shout of “Mako, the badgermoles are out!”

Mako takes a second longer to shake off his arm than he normally would. 

This is weird. This is  very weird. He feels like he’s still in an alternate world, or more, he feels like he should be, but he’s been  pulled back into this one, where Wu is  yanking him bodily around the zoo like a child for the express purpose of looking at giant blind animals who can’t even look back.

Mako has to admit the earthbending is pretty cool. But Wu isn’t even an earthbender.

“I don’t get it,” he mutters as Wu presses himself as close as he can get to the giant things, cooing in a sort of sing-song. 

“Don’t disrespect the badgermoles, Mako,” Wu tells him with the biggest smile on his face.

“I’m not disrespecting anything,” Mako says. One of them is slowly digging into the rock. “I just don’t get,” he waves a hand at the two of them. They’re so slow. 

“What is there to get? They’re huge! And impressive! And they’re earth benders,” Wu sweeps an arm at the creatures, “they’re amazing.”

“They’re just animals,” Mako says, flipping around to lean on the rail. He doesn’t know why he’s being stubborn about this. Maybe because he keeps catching himself staring at Wu’s lips, remembering last night. But that was nothing. Wu was drunk and clearly just needed to relieve some tension or… something. If he’s not making a big deal out of it, Mako isn’t going to either. 

“How dare you,” Wu breathes, and he turns on Mako, hands going to Mako’s chest. “They are not just animals. They are majestic creatures! Would you call a sky bison ‘just an animal’?”

“Yes,” Mako says, raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t?”

“No!” Wu shakes his head quickly. “They’re our heritage. Humans would be nothing without them.” Wu’s palms are still braced on his chest. Mako swallows, and steps back out of his space.

“Earthbenders wouldn’t be,” he says, but something in Wu’s expression stops him from going on. “The earthbending is cool.” The one pressing earth aside with its massive paws, making the ground rumble, is almost into the rock face. Mako blinks. “Why don’t they just… tunnel out of here?”

“Because they like it here,” Wu assures him with another flash of a grin. “I talked with the zookeepers a few weeks ago, and they said that the badgermoles choose to stay because it’s safe here.”

“They’d probably be safe anywhere,” Mako points out. “They’re three times the size of anything else.”

“No,” the grin finally drops and Wu shakes his head slowly, “there are poachers in the Earth Kingdom. Now that no one is enforcing the law that says the badgermoles can’t be hunted, people are… well. It’s much safer here.”

Mako can imagine. “That’s awful.”

“It is!” Wu agrees emphatically, and then he takes Mako’s wrist again and yanks him closer to the enclosure. “When I’m King, I’m going to make sure that they’re protected again. That all badgermoles are as happy as these badgermoles.”

So he has some plans, at least. Mako’s pretty sure it’s the only part of being the Earth King that he’s actually thought about, but it’s something. “I’m sure they appreciate it.”

Then Wu ruins the moment. He starts singing, his voice scratching and off-key, a sonnet to the badgermoles. Mako feels like he’s heard this one before, but Wu makes up different lyrics every time about different parts of the badgermole: their snouts, their tails, their paws, their earth bending. It’s obnoxious. And loud. And makes people stare at them.

“ _Wu_ ,” Mako groans, when Wu starts in on another verse. The badgermoles are sitting strangely motionless, their snouts and tiny ears pointed up toward them both. Almost like they can hear Wu. Creepy. Mako doesn’t trust them. “Let’s go.”

Wu waves a hand at him, too intent on his singing. The few other patrons of the zoo are giving them a wide berth.

For once, Mako is the one to wrap a hand around Wu’s thin wrist and drag him somewhere else.

They end up in the Fire Nation section of the zoo, full of salamanders with slow heavy eyes and preening birds, and Wu keeps on touching him. Like normal: his hand in Mako’s to pull him around, little grins flashed his way when Mako can’t quite hold back his groan. Wu thinks he’s hilarious. Most of his jokes are terrible, and still make Mako snort, and he hates it. 

When the sun is setting, Wu finally lets them leave, only to drag Mako to a fancy restaurant nearby He complains about the food and touches Mako’s arm and steals food off his plate. Mako’s annoyance and confusion builds and builds until the candle in the center of their table starts blazing, and he realizes he needs to cool it.

Literally.

Afterwards, Wu decides he wants ice cream, and Mako is fine with that too, he loves ice cream. One of the few perks of working for Wu is that he gets to have things like that more often now.

The stars are out, and Wu has pressed himself to Mako’s side on the bench because he’s “so cold!” and is running his tongue over the ice cream. 

Mako knows he’s staring. He does. But he can’t help it: Wu has to be doing that on purpose. He even m oans a little as he licks it, the same way he did with his lips around Mako—

Wu glances up at him and catches him staring. He grins and offers his cone. “I told you you’d regret not getting chocolate.”

“Mine is fine,” Mako insists, maybe a little too defensively. “Vanilla is classic.”

“Vanilla is basic,” Wu says lightly and takes a very suggestive lick of his ice cream.

“You’re basic,” Mako mumbles like a teenager. His face is hot. He swirls his tongue around his own ice cream, trying very hard to pay attention to it instead of Wu.

“Aw, Mako, don’t be like that,” Wu teases, leaning toward him. He offers his own ice cream cone. “Here, have some.”

“I don’t—mmph!” Mako’s saying when he leans in too far and Wu’s ice cream cone smushes into his face, smearing chocolate over his mouth. 

“Buddy,” Wu laughs, patting him on the back, “you could’ve just asked.”

Mako narrows his eyes as he wipes his mouth clean. 

It has to be on purpose.

Mako tells himself not to notice Wu brushing against his side on the way back to the hotel—in a Satomobile because Wu doesn’t walk if he can help it—but spirits help him, he absolutely does. 

Wu’s long fingers slide over Mako’s thigh at one point, ostensibly so he can lean over Mako and see something out the window. Mako’s breath catches, and Wu has the audacity to grin at him about it.

They just need to get it out of their systems.

So as soon as the door is shut behind them, safe in the room, Mako steps into his space, watching his eyes go wide. Wu swallows, and smiles, and Mako pushes him against the wall and kisses him hard. 

Wu’s lips are sweet with the remnants of chocolate, but he’s kissing Mako wet and open-mouthed. Mako’s been half-hard for the entire trip home and  apparently  so has Wu, he discovers, grinding their hips together. Wu shudders against him, kissing Mako back with a need that Mako can feel.

Mako wants to tell him he knows what Wu was doing, but he can’t stop kissing Wu long enough to do it. Anyway, he has other goals, which are: shove Wu’s soft pants down, and get a hand around him, and Mako’s never wanted that so badly before. Wu is hot and hard and already thrusting against his palm.

Groaning, Wu grabs onto Mako’s head, holding him there so he can kiss him harder. Mako bites at his lower lip, wrapping his other arm around Wu’s waist. Wu’s cock is  _leaking_ over the top of his hand, and Mako swipes his thumb through it, gasping against his  lips. 

Mako’s never touched anyone’s cock but his own. The feel of someone else’s in his hand, hard and hot and slick at the tip, makes him dizzy. 

Unlike yesterday, Wu doesn’t lead. He thrusts into Mako’s hand and kisses him hard and biting,  but seems content to let Mako do what he wants . It’s the only time that he isn’t trying to get Mako to do something for him or go somewhere: he just takes it, gasping, arching into Mako’s hand. 

“Please,” Wu breathes, rocking against him, his voice thin and desperate. That one word goes straight through Mako. He grabs at Wu’s ass, yanking him close until he’s trapped between Mako’s hand and his arm. Mako likes him like this, likes how much he seems to like it, his head dropped on Mako’s shoulder and his breath coming fast. He doesn’t want to stop touching Wu, but he can feel the desperation in the roll of his hips, how close he is.

He turns his head, biting at the shell of Wu’s ear. 

Wu gasps and whimpers, his hips bucking short and quick, and then his comes, a  breathless groan escaping him. Mako pulls him through it, touching him until Wu whines and shoves his face into Mako’s shoulder, shuddering. 

“Fuck,” Mako whispers, barely above a breath. He can’t seem to let go of Wu, and Wu doesn’t seem to want to move. He stays close, his breath slowing. He can’t pick a single thought from  his head.

Then hands slide down Mako’s stomach and Wu has his pants open before he quite realizes it. 

They’ll get it out of their systems, and then it will go back to normal, Mako thinks as Wu drags a palm down his cock. This time Wu is facing him, and Mako can drag his head back up and kiss him as hard as he wants to. It’s very different. Wu’s back is against the wall and his tongue is in Mako’s mouth.

Mako’s been on edge all day and now Wu’s thumb is sliding over the tip of him.  He comes like that, sharp and fast and shaky.

But it’s fine.

Mako is sure when he flops bonelessly into his bed that night (in the room right next to Wu, so he can be there if anything happens, even though nothing ever has) that things will go back to normal. 

They don’t.

Wu kisses him again the next night, and they end up sprawled on the couch with Wu between Mako’s knees, dragging wet kisses along his skin. Mako shivers and shoves a hand into his hair and drags Wu up to kiss him afterwards, tasting himself in Wu’s mouth.

Mako wakes the next day, makes himself coffee, and immediately throws himself into training.

They’re in the Presidential Suite, so of course there’s a little training area in the actual suite opposite the two bedrooms. The hotel also has a full gym but Wu says it smells like feet so Mako has stopped going down there. It means Mako has to hold back on the fire quite a bit, but at least he can keep himself in shape.

It’s easier to move through his bending forms than to think about what’s happening with Wu, because Mako has no idea how to approach it. 

Well. He does. They shouldn’t be doing anything. Mako is supposed to be guarding him, not hooking up with him. It’s a bad idea, and if Beifong ever found out she’d probably fire him.

Scowling, Mako aims a fiery kick at the little punching bag, sending it flying back. Sweat is already beading his skin, but his breathing is still easy. Mako needs to push himself harder.

He just needs to ask Wu about it.

“Whoa, buddy,” Wu’s voice startles him out of his stance. Mako whirls around to face the prince, who’s leaning in the doorway in his fancy pajamas. “I like this hotel. Wouldn’t want you to burn it down.”

Narrowing his eyes, Mako straightens up and waves out a tiny flame that sprouted on the punching bag. “I’m not going to burn anything down. Firebender, remember?” He makes a smaller flame in his palm and snuffs it to prove the point. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Show me,” Wu says, smiling at him, arms crossing over his chest. He doesn’t look like he wants to move anytime soon.

A little curl of heat flares in Mako’s gut. He watches Wu for a moment, then shrugs and shifts back into his training routine, kicking up the heat a little bit. It’s the only time of day he really  _moves_ , now, and that’s still strange to him. He’s spent his life more or less in the thick of things. Wu has no idea what that’s like. 

He engulfs the punching bag in flame and then yanks the fire down again before it can do any real damage, conscious of Wu’s eyes on him the whole time. Working like this, with his fists and his fire, falling into familiar forms, is the only time Mako feels like himself these days. It’s similar to whatever is happening with Wu: he can sink into it, let himself go, quiet his mind with the movement of his body.

Mako lets himself get lost, moving through his old pro-bending forms and then into some of the more traditional firebending forms, finishing with a move that Toza helped him develop, a strong-rooted punch that sends fire spiralling out from his fist to slam harmlessly into the ground. 

Wu claps with a laugh, “it’s too bad you don’t get to do that more often! I’d love to watch you show everybody up out there like bam,” he throws a very weak punch, “bam!” and another one, grinning hugely.

Panting, Mako pulls himself to his feet and shoves a hand back through his sweaty hair to get it out of his face. “It’s a good thing for you that I don’t have to,” he points out, biting down on his own grin. It’s been a while since he had an audience. Sometimes he misses all the applause from pro-bending, the chance to show off the skills that for a while were all he had.

“Well, yeah,” Wu says, waving a hand, “but it would be more fun if you did. More exciting.” His eyes skim over Mako’s body, biting his lip. “You look good.”

He’s said stuff like that before, too, but there’s a new heat to his words, or maybe Mako’s just aware of the intent behind them. Has Wu been really, actually flirting with him this whole time? No just for fun, but because he wanted Mako? 

Mako’s skin prickles with awareness like static. He glances away, pushing his fingers through his hair again to dry it with a puff of heat. “I—should shower. Weren’t we going somewhere today?”

“Oh, yeah!” Wu brightens. “The mover premiere. It’s not til this afternoon, but that means that you and me, we should look as spiffy as we can. Maybe slick your hair back.”

“Spiffy,” Mako repeats, fighting a smile. Wu’s the only person he knows who uses words like that regularly. They make him sound exactly as painfully upper-class as he is.

“Spiffy,” Wu agrees, “well. You keep,” he does another terrible punch, this time with a sound effect that is supposed to be fire, Mako guesses, “I’m going to order breakfast.” His eyes drop, dragging down Mako’s body again.

Mako’s mouth goes dry. “Wu.”

Wu turns back on his heel to look at Mako, a small smile on his face. “Mako?”

There’s no way to ask this casually, but Mako has to know. “What’s,” he waves a hand at Wu, “What are you…”

“What am I… what?” Wu asks, tilting his head.

Embarrassment tightens Mako’s stomach. He swallows, and says, instead, “What are you wearing? To the thing?”

Wu’s brows shoot up, but then he grins. “Oh, I was thinking my bright green suit. You know, the one with the little buttons. It really makes my eyes pop.”

All of Wu’s bright green suits have little buttons on them, but Mako nods anyway, his cheeks strangely hot. “Sure. Yeah. Thanks.”

“If you need help finding an outfit, you can just ask,” Wu says, “I’d love to take you shopping! I never said you have to wear that uniform, even if you look cute in it.”

Cute is not the word Mako would use.

“It’s professional,” he says with a frown, and shakes his head before Wu can try and convince him, even though Mako is the one who put the idea in his head in the first place. “It’s fine, I’m wearing my uniform. We really don’t need to go shopping.”

“If you’re sure,” Wu sings out, and then he’s out the door.

Mako goes into his cooldown with a little more force, and fire, than strictly necessary.

Wu changes his mind about what he wants to wear about three times before they have to leave, and eventually settles on the exact thing he said he wanted to wear in the first place. Mako has to physically steer him out the door to get him to stop fussing about his necktie.

“It’s going to be dark anyway,” he tells Wu as the elevator doors slide open, and finally lets his hand drop from the small of Wu’s back. “No one’s going to be able to see you.”

“That’s when you need to be at your best!” Wu protests with a pout. “It’s for the before and after, Mako. Yes, no one sees you during the mover, but you’re _there_ and that’s what matters. Weren’t you at your brother’s premieres? You should know this!”

Mako winces. “I wasn’t.”

“Oh,” Wu eyes him, “well. Then I’ll show you now. Just do what I do.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that,” Mako says dryly. 

“ _Suit_ yourself,” Wu shoots him a grin, and Mako groans, “but don’t come running to me when some hot dame tries to ask you about your uniform.”

Mako glances sideways at him as he piles into the Satomobile, shaking his head. “I’ll manage. Somehow.”

“I bet you will, buddy,” Wu laughs, looking completely at ease in his nice suit in the nice car on his way to a mover premiere with the upper crust of Republic City.

Admittedly, he does look good. The suit is tailored perfectly for him, of course, flaring over his shoulders and clinging to his narrow hips. It’s a little fancier than the normal (also very fancy) clothes he wears.

Mako is staring. 

He tears his eyes away, scowling out the window at the darkening sky. He swears that he sees a hint of a smirk on Wu’s face reflected in the window.

The mover is okay. Admittedly, Mako hasn’t seen many of them. He saw Bolin’s a few years ago, when things settled down, before Bolin joined up with Kuvira and when Mako was still doing his actual job. But aside from watching his brother dressed up in next-to-nothing, he hasn’t seen any others.

This one is a too-sweet story about a fire nation princess and an earth kingdom peasant who fall in love desite the barriers between them. He sits next to Wu, who is rapt the whole time. He even leans in when the couple is about to kiss, and gasps when they do.

It’s cute.

Mako doesn’t know where the thought came from, but it’s true. Wu is really invested, and keeps shooting Mako wide-eyed looks like he wants to make sure Mako’s paying attention. He should be paying attention to the mover, but Wu’s shoulder presses up against his when the couple is dramatically separated, and his mind goes back to the past two nights, to Wu’s face, flushed, with Mako’s cock between his lips.

His own face is hot. Again. He’s suddenly very grateful for the darkness of the theater.

The afterparty—apparently all mover premiers have them—is exactly what Mako expected. Wu shmoozes with the “important” people in Republic City. People who seem to be famous for being rich, and who seem to only care about Wu because he’s a prince. Wu is laughing and talking, too-loud as always and with a smile that looks too wide to be real.

Mako wonders if he’s actually enjoying himself. If any of them are, really. 

Wu swings by where Mako stationed himself in the corner later in the night with a plate of finger foods. “Aw, why do you look so glum, Mako? Have a lobster-crab cake.”

“I don’t look glum,” Mako protests, but he does accept the little cake, his fingers brushing Wu’s as he hands it over. It’s tiny, and very tasty. He’s been hungry for the last hour and a half because the caterers keep ignoring him. There never seems to be enough food at these things. Mako doesn’t get the point of having food at all if it’s just going to be tiny and useless. 

Wu is still looking at him, frowning like he’s personally offended that Mako isn’t having fun. 

Mako shifts uncomfortably. “It’s just not my thing,” he continues once he’s swallowed the tiny cake. “Parties. Like this. These people don’t even _like_ each other.”

“Some don’t, but that isn’t really the point,” Wu says, shifting to stand next to him, looking out at the rest of the party. “People come to these parties to be seen and to see. Who got invited, what you’re wearing, who you’re with. That kind of thing! I don’t really need to play that game, of course, but I still enjoy it. See,” Wu puts an arm around Mako’s shoulder, tugging him down a bit, “see that woman over there?” His voice is hushed, his breath washing warm and wet over Mako’s ear. “That’s Madam Chen. She’s a widow of a very rich man, Mr. Chen. She’s making her way back onto the scene with a splash. That dress? Very expensive, from Mr. Hu’s.”

Mako follows his gaze to a very distinguished-looking older woman laughing with a flute of champagne in one hand. Her hair is tied back into a complicated knot dripping with pearls and gold, but the dress, when Mako looks at it, is a plain emerald green. Mako frowns. “It doesn’t look that fancy.”

Wu groans, squeezing his shoulder. “That’s the problem! You don’t see the cut, the artistry. You only see a green dress. Am I wrong?” His face is very close to Mako’s, wide eyes fixed on him. His eyes are greener than Madam Chen’s plain dress. This close, Mako can see little gold flecks around his pupils, like the buttons on his suit.

Mako backs away, lifting his head. “It’s just a dress. It doesn’t even have, like,” he searches around for something that would be considered fancy, and glances over at a man in a blue suit with a complicated-looking ruffly necktie, “frills, or anything.”

“Oh, oh Mako,” Wu sighs, patting his chest lightly. “Frills do not make the dress. Really, the opposite, this year. Frills are very out.”

“Someone forgot to tell that guy,” Mako gestures at the blue-suited man, who, now that he looks at it, is kind of hovering sadly at the edge of a larger group.

“Tragic, isn’t it?” Wu agrees, narrowing his eyes, “yes, he’s clearly on the outs. He probably won’t be at the next one of these.”

Mako glances down at him again. Wu’s face is deadly serious. “One fashion mistake and you’re done?”

“That isn’t his first,” Wu says, watching the man for another minute before he turns back to Mako. “Let’s go home.”

“Sure,” Mako says with a tiny twinge of relief. The more Wu tells him about these things, the worse they seem. Especially since Mako has never once seen Wu hang out with any of these people outside of the parties. There are lunches, occasionally, or dinners or cocktail hours, but Wu always leaves alone, with him, no matter how much he flirts and schmoozes and laughs.

Now that he thinks about it, he isn’t sure Wu has any friends.

Not that Mako is any better. It’s been months since he last saw Asami, and Korra hasn’t written to him once.

Wu seems as unconcerned as ever when they get back into the Satomobile and the driver takes them back to the hotel. “Did you have a good time?” Wu asks, head lolling on the headrest to look at him.

“I liked the mover,” Mako admits. He doesn’t want to think about the party anymore. “Bolin wasn’t half-naked on screen, so.”

Wu snorts a laugh, “I liked that part of the Nuktuk ones.”

“I could’ve done without it,” Mako says, biting down on a smile. “The story in this one was better.”

“I liked it too,” Wu agrees, and his eyes are flicking over Mako’s face, and keep landing on his lips. “I think it’s gonna be big, this mover.”

“What, you can predict that stuff now?”

“Just a sense,” Wu says with a grin, “it’s the kind of flick that people eat up. Love, strife, a hot dame, a muscley gent. What’s not to like?”

“The predictable ending,” Mako challenges, even though he’s pretty sure all of that is true. It _was_ a good mover. “I saw that coming five minutes in.”

“Of course you did! It’s a love story. They can’t not get together,” Wu is leaning into his space now. Mako can smell his cologne, soft and kind of woody. It works. Strangely. He’s very warm. “That’s the pay off of it!”

“The part with,” Mako has to gather his thoughts up again, “her brother betraying them, though. You had to see that coming.” 

“No! I mean, if I thought about it, maybe, but that was such a surprise!” Wu laughs. “I loved that part.”

“If you had your eyes closed, maybe,” Mako says, snorting in laughter when Wu’s eyes narrow like he’s trying to be threatening. It doesn’t work. His eyes are too big and his hair too soft for Wu to ever look intimidating.

Wu sniffs and turns away from him. He changes the subject, talking about a new designer who he saw on several of the women at the party. Mako finds that harder to engage with, but Wu seems to content to fill the air himself until they’re back at the hotel.

In the elevator, when they’re finally alone, Wu’s smile turns wicked, and his fingers press into Mako’s hair. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you did something special with your hair.”

Mako had, in fact, slicked it back like Wu suggested in the twenty minutes or so before they’d left. He’d had to steal some of Wu’s pomade to do it, but given that it was his suggestion in the first place, Mako didn’t think he’d mind.

He also kind of didn’t think that Wu would notice. 

Clearly he did, because he’s crowded into Mako’s space, his fingers dragging through Mako’s hair, his face close. Mako’s mouth is dry. “Uh,” Wu’s eyes flick down to his mouth when he wets his lips, and Mako sways toward him, heat thrumming under his skin. “Yeah.” His hands land on Wu’s hips.

“Did you do it for me?” There’s a teasing note in Wu’s voice, and he’s very close to Mako. 

Apparently it’s not out of his system.

Or Mako’s.

“Wu—” he starts, voice low, eyes wide, but before he can say anything else the doors slide smoothly open into their suite. Wu grins and tugs Mako backward into the living room by his uniform jacket.

“You don’t have to be shy,” Wu breathes, hands smoothing down Mako’s chest. “You look good like this.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to wear my uniform,” Wu’s suit is very soft. Softer than Mako’s uniform, for sure, and the shirt under his jacket is even softer. 

“You look good in your uniform,” Wu tells him, walking backwards until he can nudge Mako onto the couch. “And I bet you look good out of it.”

It’s such a stupid line, and Mako’s face goes hot anyway. He sits down hard, tilting his head back to meet Wu’s eyes. He’s smiling, his eyes intent, his hands braced on Mako’s shoulders. Mako should stop this, figure out what’s happening, except that Wu is so close and Mako wants to kiss him.

Wu slips onto the couch, knees on their side of Mako’s thighs, fingers petting back through his hair. He looks like he wants to say something else, just a short intake of breath, and then his lips are almost on Mako’s.

Mako is the one who pulls him into a kiss.

And then it’s just like the last few nights: Mako leans into him, curling his hands into Wu’s jacket to drag him closer. Wu’s fingers are in his hair, gripping his head, keeping him in place, and Mako’s uniform goes from a perfect fit to confining in a heartbeat. He wants Wu out of his fancy suit.

Wu lets him push it off his shoulders, the fabric dropping to the ground without a sound. His shirt is probably silk, even softer under Mako’s hands when he drags them back up along Wu’s spine. With a soft groan, Wu presses even closer, his chest to Mako’s, lips insistent on his. 

He’s good at this, is the thing. It’s so easy to get lost in grabbing at Wu’s hair, in the damp heat of Wu’s mouth on his, but then Mako’s fingers slide on expensive silk and he remembers where they are and what he’s supposed to be doing. He turns his face, so Wu’s lips collide with his cheek. “Wu, what—” his breath is coming hard and fast, and he can’t quite make himself let go, “ _What_ are we doing.”

“Uh,” Wu blinks at him, face flushed, lips parted. He shakes his head. “Making out?”

“Yeah,” Mako says, narrowing his eyes, “I got that. I mean,” he goes on, before he gets distracted by Wu swaying closer to him again with his kiss-swollen mouth and his heat-dark eyes, “Why?”

“Do you… not want to?” Wu frowns, and he’s slipping back off of Mako’s lap before the words are out of his mouth. “We don’t have to, Mako. I thought—”

“No,” Mako grabs at his hip, keeping him from standing up. He doesn’t want to stop. He’ll think about it later, the sudden and very pointed urge to keep Wu from going anywhere. “I—just want to know what… you’re thinking.”

Wu slowly relaxes back against him, but that frown is still there. “I, oh,” he presses his lips together, then goes on, “I think you’re very attractive, Mako. The other night, I’ll be honest, I was pretty drunk when I kissed you, but you. You kissed me too. I thought we were on the same page about this.”

Mako doesn’t even know what book they’re reading. “What page is that?”

“Uh,” Wu pauses again, which is so rare for him. He’s almost always talking, always ready with something to say. “I want to kiss you. And you want to kiss me. What else is there?”

A lot, Mako wants to say, but he doesn’t want to go there. He just needs to know what ground they’re even standing on. 

And if this is just something fun, for Wu, Mako can work with that. Mako  _wants_ to work with that, because his love life has been the kind of disaster he doesn’t want to repeat.

But he’s also been more or less on his own since then, and Wu wants to kiss him. “Casual,” he says carefully, watching Wu’s face. Wu nods slowly, his hands landing back on Mako’s chest.

“Yeah, casual,” he says, then a smile lights on his face. “Just two guys, living the good life and having fun.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Mako groans, and drags Wu back into a kiss to stifle his answering laughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to our magnum opus. This bad boy is novel-length and complete, we'll be posting a chapter a few times a week until it's done.
> 
> Come for the porn, stay for the plot, that's what I always say.


	2. Book 1, Chapter 2

It is casual. Or at least as casual as it can be when you live together and the man you’re making out with is your employer. Life goes on like normal (or as normal as Wu ever is) during the day. 

There’s one weird moment when Wu grabs his hand in the middle of the city. He usually grabs Mako’s arm or his wrist, but today his fingers twine with Mako’s as he pulls him toward the next  statue on the brochure he found earlier. The city is littered with them.

Mako can feel the eyes on them. He’s used to it, sort of; he can never tell when Wu’s going to get recognized and when people aren’t going to care about the heir to the Earth Kingdom. 

But he  is, and Mako remembers how quickly the press pounced on him the first time he and Korra went on a real date.

He tugs his hand free.

Wu glances back at him with a confused expression. “We’re not there yet.”

“We shouldn’t,” he holds his hand up in mute explanation. “Not out here.”

“Oh,” Wu stares at the hand for a second, then rolls his eyes. “Come on, Mako! Two buddies can hold hands in public.”

“It’s not that,” Mako frowns at him. Of course he wouldn’t get it: he likes being in the paper. It’s a victory to him. And Mako’s kind of had enough of it. “It’s a bad idea. The press will jump on anything.”

Wu holds his eyes for a second, smile softening. He claps Mako on the arm instead. “Alright, big guy. I won’t hold your hand.”

“Thank you,” Mako says quietly, and follows him toward the giant statue of Katara’s brother, who Wu proceeds to talk about for the next fifteen straight minutes.

It’s when they return to the suite at night from shopping or parties (or one memorable event on a boat with several alcohol-soaked Fire Nation dignitaries), that they end up wrapped around each other on the couch. Mako learns exactly how Wu likes to be touched, what makes him moan and press his face desperately into the curve of Mako’s shoulder.

Mako is still stiflingly bored most of the days. Wu seems determined to soak up everything Republic City has to offer. Or, at least, everything high-class Republic City has to offer. The parts of the city that Mako is used to probably wouldn’t interest Wu in the slightest. Too dirty, too chaotic, too dangerous, and in the summer, far too hot. Mako has no interest in taking him into the heart of Triad territory. It’d be like a race to see how fast they could get mugged, even though the best food in the city, in Mako’s opinion, is there.

Wu operates in a very different Republic City than the one Mako struggled through.

He doesn’t bring it up, though.

Wu is his boss, kind of, and more importantly Wu definitely wouldn’t get it because he’s never wanted for anything in his life and pouts at Mako if his tea is slightly oversteeped. Mako’s fine with this weird hooking-up thing they have going on, and Wu not knowing much more about him than that. He knows exactly the spot to drag his tongue over to get Mako hard, and that’s maybe more intimate that knowing his favorite restaurants.

One evening, when Mako is reading the newspaper at the table, Wu comes in with a grin on his face and announces, “We’re going to dinner.”

“…okay,” Mako says, and picks his paper back up. Future Industries has apparently finished another one of their rebuilt sections of town. Asami must be thrilled with all the work the city has been giving her company. Mako really needs to call her or get lunch with her or something. It’s been almost six months since he saw her.

“At my favorite place,” Wu says, leaning on the table so he’s in Mako’s space. “We have a reservation in an hour. You should get changed.”

“I should?” Mako glances down at himself. He’s in his uniform, like always. He just pressed this one yesterday. When he looks back up, Wu is even closer, and grinning at him in a way that makes Mako instantly suspicious. “Why?”

“Because I want you to eat with me, not sit there like a stiff board,” Wu teases, leaning closer still. Mako thinks for a second that Wu is going to kiss him. Mako almost kisses him, but Wu pulls back with a wave of his hand. “There’s an outfit in your room,” he says, already turning to leave.

“You—what?” Mako drops the paper and lurches up after him. “Wu! What do you mean, there’s an outfit—” he stops when he pushes open his door and the question answers itself. Laid out on his bed is a suit. 

He already has a suit.

But this one is really nice, all deep red fabric and crisp lines. He’s worried for a second that it’ll be like the silky ones that Wu wears, but when he touches the fabric, but it’s a little stiff and structured under his fingertips. It looks warm, perfect for the changing weather.

It’s gorgeous. 

And Wu just—bought it for him, like it was nothing. It probably cost more than Mako’s entire (destroyed) apartment. 

Scowling, Mako leaves the suit behind and goes to open the bathroom door. “I already have a suit.”

Wu glances up from where he’s doing something to his face. It’s covered in a goopy green cream. Mako will never really understand it. “You don’t like it?” 

“It’s really nice,” Mako says, and shakes his head. “That isn’t the point. I have one already.”

“And I saw this one and thought you’d look good in it,” Wu says, turning back to the sink to wash off the green stuff. He isn’t wearing a shirt, and Mako takes a moment to just look at the arch of his spine as he bends over. Wu is so skinny. Slender, more like, because it’s not like he’s skin and bones. He’s just small. He likes it when Mako presses a hand between the wings of his shoulderblades and holds him there.

Mako shakes off the thought.

“When did you even,” He starts, but Wu is splashing water on his face, bent over the sink and not paying attention to Mako at all. 

And it is a really nice suit.

“Fine,” Mako mutters, and goes to put it on.

It’s close to eight o’clock and already dark when Wu finally exits his room, wearing one of his fancy green suits, his hair perfectly coiffed. Mako looks up from the newspaper that he picked up again to see Wu smiling a huge smile. 

“You do look good,” Wu says. Mako shifts a little in his seat, resisting the urge to run his hand through his slicked-back hair. Surprisingly, he likes the style. It looks much more put-together than his usual bird’s nest.

“Where are we going?” Mako asks as he pushes himself up. He isn’t going to give Wu the satisfaction of knowing exactly how long Mako spent staring at himself in the damn suit.

“Only my favorite place in the city,” Wu says, stepping up to Mako and smoothing his hands down the lapels of the suit. He’s wearing that cologne again, the woody one that smells so good on him. “Blue Madame. Best fritters you’ll ever eat.”

Mako raises his eyebrows. No wonder Wu made him change. That place is even fancy for Asami—she’d called it stuffy, once—and Mako’s heard they have a dress code. They’d never let him in without Wu there. He’d never even try. 

Wu’s fingers tug at his jacket, undoing and then re-doing one of the buttons. Mako lifts a hand to it, his fingers grazing Wu’s. “I put it on wrong?”

“No,” Wu says, leaning in close to him to murmur, “I didn’t think that I’d want to get you back out of it this badly.”

Heat and surprise curl sharp in Mako’s belly. He drops his palm to the small of Wu’s back, tugging him in. “You said we had a reservation.”

“Yep,” Wu breathes. His lips skim Mako’s, barely a kiss but enough to make Mako want to tug him in for more, and then he’s pulling out of Mako’s grip and skipping toward the elevator, “we can’t be late!”

Mako stares after him for a moment, trying to decide whether he’s frustrated or amused or turned on.

Kind of all three. Which is normal, with Wu.

He doesn’t help with that on the way there, practically draping himself over Mako to watch the sunset out of his side of the car. Mako wants to kiss him, but the driver is right up front so he keeps his hands to himself until they arrive and he has to adjust Wu’s necktie. Heat flashes again in Wu’s eyes as Mako’s fingertips graze his throat. 

It is a  _really_ nice restaurant.

They’re immediately escorted to a table near the window, looking out over the sparkling bay. Waiting for them at the table is a tiny glass of sake for each of them, which Mako pushes away. 

“Aw, Mako,” Wu laughs and nudges it back, “let loose for once.”

“I’m not drinking on the job,” Mako says. Someone pushes his chair in a little bit. He shoots the waiter a look and they retreat, wide-eyed.

“Then you won’t drink for literally years,” Wu waves a hand, “huh. Maybe you should have a day off. This can be your day off!” He holds up his glass for Mako to clink with his.

“I don’t—I can’t just not guard you,” Mako protests, but Wu just keeps his tiny glass in the air. “What if assassins choose today to show up, and I’m off my game because of this?”

“I’ll take the risk,” Wu waves his little cup, unconcerned. “Live a little, Mako.”

Mako narrows his eyes. He’s not going to win this, and Wu will bug him until he does it. Also, he still has a solid alcohol tolerance from all those years with the Triads. They had no qualms about letting them drink. “I live plenty,” he says, and picks up his own. It feels like a toy in his fingers. A very expensive toy.

Wu holds out his cup with a little smile for Mako to clink. “To us.”

“Uh,” Mako hesitates, but he’s already in. He clinks it carefully against Wu’s. “Sure.”

“Just two guys in the big city,” Wu sings out and winks at Mako before he sips his sake.

Mako snorts and takes a sip of sake to hide the burn in his face.

Then it actually hits his tongue. It’s really good—way better than the stuff he’d buy himself, and better even than the sake Zolt gave him once after he’d managed to bend lightning for the first time. He can actually taste something other than the burn of alcohol. “Wow,” he says, and takes another sip.

“I thought you deserved something nice,” Wu says. When he looks up, Wu is watching him with a strange look on his face.

Mako raises an eyebrow. “For…”

“Everything!” Wu says brightly, eyes skipping away to the view out the window. 

Wu fluctuates between acknowledging what they’re doing and ignoring it completely. He teases and flirts with Mako, then turns around and flirts with any girl who looks at him. Mako is confused on the best of days and frustrated on the worst.

Casual. They’re being casual. Wu’s version of casual is to flirt with other people. Mako supposes he has to be okay with that—he doesn’t have any reason  _not_ to be, except that Mako’s never done something casual before. He’s not really a casual person.

They’re given, instead of a normal menu, a list of several possible multi-course meals, none of which have prices listed and all of which sound completely out there, full of dishes Mako’s never heard of.

Wu orders for him. For once, Mako is grateful for that. What he ends up with first is possibly the most delicious thing he’s ever eaten. It’s a crispy fritter thing with a smooth bright sauce.  Mako actually makes a little noise in his throat without meaning to when he tastes it. 

Wu glances up at him, a smile curving his lips. “Seem to really be enjoying that, buddy.”

“It’s good,” Mako mumbles. Maybe he’s not supposed to be totally silent while he’s eating. This kind of place  _would_ have a rule like that. 

“Good!” Wu smiles, and refills Mako’s sake glass. The servers have been doing that too, but Mako thinks that this might be the first time Wu has done something like that for him. “It would be a shame not to enjoy this food. It’s my favorite place in the city, but it’s pricy, even for me. Not for just a casual night out, you know?”

_Then what is this_ , Mako wants to ask, but the words stick in his throat. He swallows them with another sip of sake. “I thought fancy restaurants were overrated.”

“Oh, no,” Wu shakes his head, delicately eating his own food. He knows exactly how he’s supposed to approach these dishes, which utensils to use, how to sit. Mako feels suddenly very out of place, even in his nice clothes. “It’s very worth it. These people know their craft, and we can appreciate it. Like, like, I don’t know. What do you care about,” his eyes flick over Mako, squinting at him. “I got nothing.”

Mako gives him a flat look. “Try me.”

“Shoes..?” Wu guesses.

“S _eriously_ ,” Mako is fighting his own smile. “That’s your first guess. Really.”

“I don’t know, Mako! You don’t really have hobbies,” Wu shoots back. “But let me keep guessing.” He leans in very close to Mako, eyes narrowed, “fire bending.”

Mako loses the fight. He grins. “I’ll give you that. Not that I get to do much of it except in practice.”

“But you appreciate it! The art of it, the people who are really good at it. Like you,” Wu flashes him another wink. “That’s how I feel about food.”

“Right, but,” Mako blinks as their empty plates are whisked away and immediately replaced with new ones. There’s a soup in front of him now. Carefully, he picks up a spoon. “There must be one you didn’t think was worth it.”

Wu wrinkles his nose. “Yes. Fan’s. That place is overpriced and awful. And I’m never giving them my business again.”

“Have I been there?” Mako has to ask. These places blend together in his head: they look the same, and they have the same overly accommodating staff and tiny plates. This soup is amazing, though. He’s careful not to groan about it this time, but wow.

“No,” Wu shudders. “Never. That place is dead to me.”

Mako finds himself snorting, almost laughing. “What did they do?”

“They sold me out to the media,” Wu mutters, wrinkling his nose, “and the food was terrible.”

“You like it when people write about you,” Mako points out. He hasn’t seen Wu get annoyed at a crowd of paparazzi yet, especially since Mako is there to drag him back out of the crush of cameras when he gets overwhelmed.

“Yes! But not when I’m trying to have dinner,” Wu sniffs, taking a bite of his food. “They were very rude.”

“The paparazzi are the worst,” Mako says with a scowl. “They’re vulture-wasps shaped like people.”

“Oh, come on,” Wu waves a hand, “they’re not that bad. All the time.”

“Did you see how they treated Korra when she first got here?” Mako asks incredulously. It’s possible that Wu didn’t, except that he found Mako through coverage about them taking down Zaheer and the Red Lotus, so maybe he did and just thought it was normal.

Wu lets out a breath. “She didn’t know how to play the game! You have to control what they say about you.”

The game again. Mako thinks about suit guy, and frowns. “When did you learn this stuff?”

“Hm? Oh. I grew up in it,” Wu says, twirling his fork between his fingers, “but I won’t say that I was good at it. I was actually very bad at it, in Ba Sing Se. But I figured it out, and in Republic City, it’s easier. People don’t know me here! At least not yet.”

“It’s harder when they know you?” Mako can’t imagine. He never got the social politics thing, really—there was some of it, with the Triads, but it was a lot simpler: the powerful came out on top, and the weak fell through the cracks. There seems to be another layer, just as brutal, within the powerful at the top. 

“It’s harder when they know how awkward you were when you were a teenager,” Wu laughs, a little too loud for the hushed restaurant.

“That’s why everyone who knew me as a teenager is out of my life,” Mako says dryly. “Mostly.”

“You weren’t awkward,” Wu says, squinting at him. “I don’t believe it.”

Mako bites down on a smile. “I didn’t _think_ I was awkward.”

“I didn’t either,” Wu snorts, and Mako swears he can feel the toe of Wu’s shoe nudging his foot under the table. 

Experimentally, just to see, Mako nudges him back, watching Wu’s face. “I can see you being an awkward teen.”

Wu glares at him, but there’s no heat in it. His toes nudge Mako again. “Excuse you.”

Mako grins, and Wu’s foot slides against his ankle. “You brought it up.” Which reminds him of something he’s been wondering. “How old are you?”

Wu’s brows shoot up. “I’m 22. Well, almost 23.” He leans in a little, “how old are _you?_ ”

Somehow, Mako thought Wu was younger than him, maybe barely out of his awkward teens. “20. Almost 21.”

“No,” Wu gasps, grabbing onto his arm. “You’re not! How are you 20?”

“I was born 20 years ago,” Mako says with a little grin. “How old did you think I was?”

“Older than me,” Wu laughs, and his hand trails down Mako’s arm. “Wow, Mako. You’ve done a lot for being 20.”

“Not that much,” Mako says, watching Wu’s fingers press against his wrist. Heat skitters under his skin. He swallows. “That just happens when you’re friends with the Avatar.”

Wu shakes his head, leaning back on his chair. His fingers drop off of Mako’s wrist. “I suppose it is.” His eyes, so green, set off by the deep color of his suit, skate over Mako. The same heat simmering under Mako’s suit is in his face, like Wu wants to do what he promised and take it back off again.

Mako shifts in his fancy chair and tries not to think about the intent behind that look. He swallows, his mouth dry. They’re in a restaurant, he reminds himself. Later.

“When you’re at a place like this,” he says, to distract himself from the idea of pulling Wu’s jacket slowly off of him and dragging his lips over the skin underneath, “are you trying to… what, see and be seen? Or not?”

“Mm, it’s not the main goal. Not with Madame Blue,” Wu says, biting his lip. “Honestly? I really like the food.”

Mako tears his eyes away from Wu’s mouth. “It’s good. I get it.”

Wu opens his mouth to say something else, but then shakes his head and picks up his napkin, folding it on the table. “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” Wu says, standing up. He rounds the table to stand by Mako, his gaze focused on Mako’s mouth.

Mako’s brows furrow. “Okay,” he says, and then both possible meanings of that hit him at once and his mouth goes dry. It could be nothing at all: he always goes with Wu, as annoying as that was, at first. It’s a safety thing, and Mako doesn’t want to be accused of not doing his job well, or let Prince Wu get kidnapped by nefarious forces while he’s in the bathroom.

But Wu is still giving him a  _look_ , his face perfectly innocent but his eyes dark. 

Mako tugs his own napkin free and follows him, his heart racing.

Wu is acting casually, like this is just a normal trip to the bathroom. He’s chatting about something that probably doesn’t matter. Wu likes to fill the air, likes the hear himself talk.

When they get to the bathroom, though, Wu glances around, then grabs the front of Mako’s suit and pulls him into a stall.

Definitely not normal. 

“What are you doing, ” Mako  hisses against the shell of his ear, trying to keep quiet. He locks the door behind them

“I don’t want to wait,” Wu breathes, but then his lips are on Mako’s throat and his hands slip down Mako’s stomach, unbuttoning his suit jacket and then his shirt.

“This is a terrible idea,” Mako says without any real intent behind it. He has exactly half the power, between the two of them, to stop this and drag Wu back to their table, but he’s also half-hard already (what is happening to him) and Wu’s not helping, dragging kisses along his throat. Mako shudders and drops his hands to Wu’s ass, yanking him close.

“You can tell me no,” Wu reminds him softly, breath spilling over his  skin. But even as he says that, his hands are opening Mako’s pants, and sliding them down his thighs with a soft rustle of fabric.

“I _know_ ,” Mako whispers. There’s an intent in Wu’s actions, like he’s been thinking about it, like he planned this, and that makes him harder than any touch could. Maybe that was the whole point of dragging Mako here tonight, except Wu is a creature of impulse as far as Mako can tell, and doesn’t usually think beyond the 24 hours about what he’s going to do.

Still. Wu’s watching him, his eyes very green, and Mako tugs him into a kiss to keep them both quiet even as hands drag over his skin. Wu moans, soft and stifled, into his mouth as Mako drags him forward. Wu lets himself be pulled, grinding against Mako, already hard.

That, Mako has learned, is something he likes: being tugged around, Mako’s thigh between his so they’re pressed together as much as possible. There isn’t much room in here to do a lot else and Mako wants him close, has since Wu started touching his damn foot under the table. 

But Wu groans and pushes himself back, panting. “Not what I had in mind,” he says with a quick grin. He sinks down in front of Mako, hands petting down his thigh. Wu holds his gaze, lips parted. “I told you I wanted you out of this suit.”

“Fuck,” Mako tells him breathlessly, which about sums it up. “Shouldn’t’ve told me to wear it—” he’s cut off by a sudden gasp as Wu’s lips press against his inner thigh. 

Mako grabs for the door behind himself, both to make sure it stays shut and also to keep himself upright. They’ve done this many more times since that first night and the hot, damp slide of Wu’s lips on his skin still makes it hard to stand up .

“We have to be quiet ,” Mako breathes, pushing a hand into Wu’s perfect hair.

“You be quiet,” Wu grins, then slips his lips around the head of Mako’s cock, a hand sliding between his legs to tease his balls. 

Mako has to slam his other hand into his own mouth like that first night to keep himself from cursing aloud. He has no idea where Wu learned to do this—college, maybe, that seems like a thing that happens in college—but he’s only gotten better in the last several months. Wu takes his cock all the way into his mouth, then further into this throat, and then Mako is lost in the wet heat of him, pressed back against the solid cold weight of the door behind him. He knows exactly how to make Mako want to grab him and fuck his royal mouth until they’re both shaking. 

He’s a different person like this, all flushed with his lips wrapped around Mako’s cock. 

“I want,” he gasps, around the slick heat of his own palm, and doesn’t get the rest of the sentence out, instead nudging his hips forward experimentally, watching Wu’s face.

Wu moans softly, meeting his eyes, and pulls Mako into him with his other hand. Mako bites off a sharp curse. Wu  _wants_ him to, makes a little desperate sound in his throat as Mako lets himself move like he wants to. Having to keep himself quiet makes it somehow more intense. He  slides his fingers through Wu’s hair, holding his head,  and meets his eyes.

He’s gorgeous like this, and his whole body is moving, tiny little thrusts forward like he’s looking for friction, a little bit wrecked. Wu likes it. Mako is learning that Wu likes it when he grabs onto him, onto his hair, his ass, his thighs. He wants to be held onto and pushed around.

Mako tugs his hand away from his mouth just to whisper, barely above a breath, “You should touch yourself.”

Wu moans again, louder than he probably should, and he grins around Mako’s cock.

Mako can’t quite see, but he can hear the rustle of fabric, and then Wu’s eyes roll shut, his face going slack. He rocks faster, moving with Mako’s thrusts into his mouth, and Mako makes a desperate little sound behind his palm and clutches hard at  Wu’s hair. It’s a terrible idea—Wu still needs to look presentable after this, and Mako’s going to ruin that, but he’s too far gone to care at this point. 

He chokes out something like Wu’s name, a warning that doesn’t do anything because he’s coming a second later. Wu keeps moving, swaying, thrusting into his own hand  until a second later, Wu makes a small noise and shudders.

Mako keeps petting his hair, even as Wu pulls back with a slick noise that goes straight through him. The stall door is cold and solid and only slightly more grounding than Wu’s head pressed against his thigh. 

They stay that way for a minute before Wu groans and stumbles to his feet. His pants are around his thighs, his hair is wild, and his lips are flushed and swollen. He looks like a mess.

Mako did that, ruined Wu’s perfectly coiffed hair and his pressed clothes. Then he tugs him close, into a kiss, tasting himself on Wu’s lips. “You’re a wreck,” he murmurs. “Not presentable at all.”

“Says you,” Wu mumbles, but he stays close against Mako, holding on with one hand.

“Not the one with my pants on the ground,” Mako pushes a kiss against the line of his jaw, thinking for a moment. They can’t stay here forever, even though he likes this softer part just as much.  How Wu gets sort of boneless afterward, a little limp, leaning into him and staying flush together.

Mako tugs him close, then flips them around, pressing Wu against the door of the stall. “Stay,” he says, and kneels to tug his wrinkled pants back up.

Wu watches him with a little smile. “Thanks, Mako,” he hesitates for a moment, then holds out his hand, which is sticky with come. Mako sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes flicking up to Wu’s. 

“Your clothes,” he breathes, and pulls off a bit of paper to clean Wu’s fingers off maybe slower than he needs to.

“Worth it,” Wu breathes. His eyes skim over Mako’s body. “I ruined your nice suit.”

“Oh,” Mako tugs Wu’s silk jacket back onto his shoulders and tries to smooth it down as best he can. He feels sort of loose, almost like laughing, because Wu absolutely doesn’t look presentable and Mako doesn’t look much better. This was a terrible, terrible idea, and Mako kind of agrees:

Worth it.

He hides his stupid grin by tugging Wu into a kiss. 

Wu sighs against his lips. He’s limp against Mako’s body. “We should go back. There’s still dessert.”

Mako had been thinking about just leaving with him, but— “There’s dessert?” 

“Best you’ll ever taste,” Wu smiles lazily at him. “I’m going to go fix my hair. You straighten up in here.” 

He presses one more slow, lingering kiss to Mako’s lips, then unlocks the stall and walks out.

Mako tries  his best to slick it back again, but his hair is a mess for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But they are the same age!" you might say, but hear us out here: Wu doesn't have an official age, this totally makes sense, just go with it, it all works in the end.


	3. Book 1, Chapter 3

Mako cooks his own breakfast, usually.

He wakes up a lot earlier than Wu, and he’s used to eating by himself, waiting for Bolin to roll out of bed to eat whatever Mako hasn’t. Mako still hasn’t gotten the hang of cooking just for himself. He usually stores the leftovers and eats them later. It’s better than living like Wu does and either going out or having someone bring him food.

He’s also usually finished with his food by the time Wu gets up. Mako makes him a tea or a coffee and they get on with t he day.

Today, though, Mako’s in the little kitchen in the suite, absently swirling chopsticks through his eggs to break up the curds, and the door creaks.

Wu pads in, his hair not done yet and hanging limp over his forehead, eyes sleepily looking over Mako. He’s in his longer silk pajamas that hang over his form like blankets. “What’re you doing?”

His hair is a mess because Mako had shoved a hand into it last night and not let go, holding Wu’s head while he dragged his tongue down the line of his throat. The memory hits him in pieces: Wu’s little gasping moans, the hard press of his fingertips, the pounding of his pulse under Mako’s lips.

Mako stirs the eggs a bit more furiously, tugging some heat out of the pan with one hand. They’re cooking too fast. “Breakfast,” he says as Wu makes his way into the little kitchenette. “Eggs.”

Wu walks up behind him and peers over his shoulder. “It smells good. Didn’t know you cooked.”

Mako shrugs. “I’m full of mystery.”

Wu laughs softly, his hands brushing Mako’s hip before he drops down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. The hotel suite is essentially a very expensive apartment, fully furnished, with the most modern amenities you can get in the city: electric lights, radiating heat, showers. Mako really likes the showers. “I want some.”

“It’s nothing fancy,” Mako says, like that’s going to change Wu’s mind. They’re still cooking too fast. He picks the pan up off the heat entirely, still stirring.  If he does it right, they’ll end up soft, almost melty. A good way to make a few eggs seem like a lot more. 

He can feel Wu’s eyes on him. “You’re up early.” Maybe the knocking of the radiators switching on woke him up. They certainly dragged Mako out of bed this morning. He’d had to open a few of the windows to let the heat out.

Wu shrugs a shoulder, pushing his hand through his hair as he yawns widely. “It smelled good out here.”

His hair falls back across his face in a wild tangle. Mako kind of sees why he spends so long on it. He bites down on a smile as Wu yawns again. “I used to cook all our meals,” Mako says, as the eggs start to come together. He drops the pan back onto the flame to finish. “Cheaper than eating out.”

“Really?” Wu asks. “Huh. I never thought about that. Cooking my own food.”

Mako blinks under the casual weight of that revelation.

“You’ve never thought of it,” he repeats, just to make sure. “Even once.”

“No,” Wu says simply. He’s watching Mako, when Mako glances back at him. “Huh.”

It shouldn’t be all that surprising, except that Mako can’t imagine a world where every single meal was prepared for him by someone else. “Grab those milk buns for me,” he says, pushing the eggs aside. 

Wu doesn’t move immediately, but then he’s on his feet, picking up the package of bread and turning it over in his hands. “You know you don’t have to. Cook. You can order whatever you want.”

“I like it,” Mako says, a little surprised at both Wu and himself. He’s never even thought of it in words like that before—cooking was a necessity, when they couldn’t afford anything else—but it’s true. He likes eating food that he made with his own hands, and he’s always liked watching Bolin devour something he made, knowing they’ll be okay for another few days, at least, because of something Mako did. 

“Okay,” Wu says, handing him the buns. His eyes are soft, and then his lips press lightly to Mako’s cheek. Then a grin curves his lips, “do you make coffee too?”

Mako can’t quite keep down his own smile.  “Do you want me to make coffee?”

Wu bites his lip in that way he does when the next thing he does will probably be on Mako’s mind for the rest of the day. It’s the look he gets before he kisses Mako or before he starts taking off his clothes. 

Now, though, he just nods. “Yeah. I do.”

Sometimes Mako feels like he gets Wu, and sometimes he does things like that, and Mako ends up feeling like he’s missing something obvious.

“Is that why you’re so quiet?” Mako asks as he pulls the buns out to cut them in half. They’re soft, a bit sweet-smelling, and squish under Mako's knife. The kind of thing Mako always wanted as a kid, but couldn’t afford. They weren’t usually worth stealing. “No coffee?”

“And it’s early,” Wu points out. He looks half asleep, even though his eyes still track Mako as he moves around the kitchenette.

“It’s really not,” Mako tells him with a smile. “You’re just used to getting up late. You miss most of the day that way.”

“Early,” Wu says again with a glare.

Mako bites down on his own laughter, but he clearly isn’t successful, because Wu narrows his eyes even more before he lets his head drop into his own arms on the table.

Mako lets him stay that way until the coffee is done.

He puts Wu’s plate down first, a roll cut in half and piled with soft eggs and coffee, black, the way he drinks his tea, before filling his own mug with cream and sugar and settling down opposite him at the tiny table.

Wu is looking at the food with an odd expression. He picks up half of the roll . Normally he would shove it into his mouth immediately. Instead he glances up at Mako.

Mako meets his eyes over the rim of his mug. “It’s… ready. To eat.”

Wu takes a bite, and his eyes fall shut and he makes a soft moan that fills up the room. “This is really good.”

He’s responded less positively to some of the fancy restaurants (although Wu tends to be pretty vocal about his love for food). Pride sparks warmly in him, and Mako grins into his mug. “It’s just eggs.”

“Good eggs,” Wu says through another bite, eyes flicking up to meet Mako’s. Mako takes another sip of his coffee, holding Wu’s gaze for a second before he looks down at the newspaper for today. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs. “Least you’re tasting them. Bo just inhales them.”

“That would be a travesty,” Wu proclaims as he finishes off the first half of his bun. Mako can feel that Wu is still looking at him, but pointedly keeps his eyes on the newspaper.

“He’s like that with everything,” Mako says absently. “Like he thinks if he doesn’t eat it fast enough it’ll be gone.” He flips the page over. There’s _really_ nothing happening today. One of Asami’s new roads opens to traffic soon—he needs to see her, tell her congratulations—and Kuvira’s managed to get another Earth Kingdom state on her side. Normal. Mako spares a moment for himself to appreciate how much the people he loves are doing, compared to him. Bolin’s off helping stabilize a kingdom, and Mako is eating eggs with a prince. 

And who knows where Korra is. Healing, hopefully. Mako tries not to think about it.

“Mm, I can appreciate that,” Wu says . W hen Mako look s up , his food is gone and he’s leaning back with the mug of coffee cupped between his hands. He looks a bit more awake, but his eyes are hazy and distant . Mako snorts at him and starts on his first roll.

“It really isn’t that hard,” he says, after a comfortable kind of silence that he isn’t used to with Wu. Maybe he’s just not as talkative in the mornings. Maybe Mako should wake up him early more often. “Especially this. It’s just controlling the heat until they’re done.”

“What?” Wu asks, blinking up at him. He looks like he was spacing out, just sitting there quietly with his coffee.

“Cooking,” Mako gives up on hiding his smile. He’s never seen Wu like this. “It’s not hard.”

“Oh,” Wu is still for another moment, then he smiles. “You should teach me.”

“How to cook?” Mako asks, a little surprised. 

“Yeah,” Wu leans in a little, “it’d be fun!”

Mako has to think about it for a second. 

On the one hand: Wu could probably use some actual life skills. He can’t just have people bring him food the rest of his life, and cooking is very useful.

On the other hand: Mako has a horrifying vision of the entire kitchen being on fire and getting them kicked out of the suite.

But Mako is a firebender. So.

“Sure,” he says, tossing back the rest of his coffee. “Okay. I’ll teach you.”

Wu grins wider and then like a whirlwind he’s out of his chair and flinging his arms are around Mako, hugging him tight around the back of his chair. “Yes!”

“It’s just cooking,” Mako mumbles, but he reaches up to squeeze Wu’s arms, smiling to himself.

Wu has a ceremony or something to attend the next day—it’s long, and boring and involves a long, boring speech by Raiko and then Wu getting his picture taken while Mako stands awkwardly in the background—and then there’s some big party he has to attend, which requires a several-hour spa trip. Mako opts out of that, although he does let himself soak in the nearby pool while Wu is getting exfoliated, or something. He didn’t really pay attention when Wu was describing the procedure.

Afterwards, though, Wu’s skin is very soft. Mako can’t seem to stop touching him that night, dragging his fingers over Wu’s thighs and up his chest until he’s panting.

Mako only remembers about teaching him to cook that weekend, and for once he’s the one to drag Wu out of the suite for the day in search of a recipe book. Leaves have coated the ground with red and gold, crunching under them as they walk out toward the car. Mako had to wait an entire hour for Wu to bundle himself up before they could leave. 

“I can’t just cook everything from memory,” he says when Wu asks why they’re doing this in the first place. He’s sneezed three times already from the dust in this tiny bookshop, and tried to make Mako go to a bigger one. But Mako  _knows_ this one, used to sneak in here when he was young to try and teach himself how to read more.

“But you cook some stuff from memory,” Wu points out, waving a hand in front of his face to ward off the dust.

“Yeah, easy stuff,” Mako says, biting down on a smile at the way Wu wrinkles his nose. “Eggs and noodles. What’s your favorite food? We can start with something you like.”

“Favorite thing, that’s hard,” Wu squints at him. “I like food. Like, pretty much all food? But my favorite,” he hums, bobbing his head a bit, “probably sticky buns. Definitely sticky buns.”

That isn’t surprising at all. Wu has about as big a sweet tooth as Mako does. “We’ll start there,” Mako says, scanning the shelves. There—a baking book, sandwiched between one about making noodles and something about vegetarian food. Mako tugs it out in a cloud of dust. “And,” because he has an opportunity and he isn’t going to waste it, “we’re buying our own ingredients.”

Wu grins, “I want to do that. How do we do that?”

“There are these buildings,” Mako flips open the book, barely keeping his smile down, “full of ingredients. You can walk into them and buy things you want to cook with.”

Wu narrows his eyes, “I know about grocery stores.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t,” Mako says with as straight a face as he can manage, but he laughs when Wu elbows him and steals the book out of his hands. He flips a few more pages, mumbling about dust. After a minute he makes a small victorious sound and holds the book up to Mako, open to a sticky bun recipe.

“Alright,” Mako laughs, taking it back from him. “Let’s see what we need.”

Wu is like a kid in a candy store when they’re picking up ingredients. They end up with enough to make at least five different meals and several things Wu picked up because they “sounded interesting” and that Mako has no idea how to use. 

Mako hasn’t made bread very often, especially the sweet, luxurious kind used to make sticky buns, but the book is helpful. Wu picks it up surprisingly quickly after the first several attempts at mixing end with them both covered in flour.

“You can do better,” Mako tells him, watching as Wu tries to knead their dough at the table. “Push it. It’s just dough, you won’t hurt it.”

“I am pushing,” Wu complains, as he frowns and concentrates on kneading. He looks good with his sleeves rolled up, in casual clothes with flour smeared over his face. Mako reaches out to swipe some of it off his cheek with one thumb. Wu’s eyes flick to him, a smile quirking his lips. “I thought you said we had to wait til it was done.”

“Not very princely to have flour all over your face,” Mako retorts, his cheeks going hot. 

Wu huffs, punching down into the dough. “Everything I do is princely. Because I’m a prince.”

“Oh, that’s how it works?” Now Wu has the power but not the rhythm of it. Mako snorts and steps up beside him, pressing his hand firmly on top of Wu’s. “There’s a rhythm to it. And you have to keep the pressure. It’ll get less sticky.”

Wu is still for a moment, staring down at their hands. He licks his lips, then smiles slyly up at Mako. “Uh huh. Okay, show me that rhythm, big guy.” 

Mako tries and fails to stifle his laughter. “You—” he starts, and then Wu’s words hit him again and he huffs out a tiny laugh and is lost. He ducks his head, grinning stupidly down at the dough. Wu bumps Mako’s hip with his own, snickering. 

“Show me how it’s done! Come on.”

“Who talks like that,” Mako demands through his laughter, bumping him back. “Just you. _Big guy_?”

“Hey!” Wu laughs, “that’s how I talk! What do you want me to call you? Buddy boy? Old mate? Huh?”

“ _No_ ,” Mako shoves at him, still laughing. “Absolutely not. There’s this word that people use when they want to talk to me.”

“’Hey, you’?” Wu shoots back, “’who’s that handsome guy hanging out with Prince Wu’? Or how about ‘Mr. Frowny Face’.”

“Yup,” Mako is barely holding onto his laughter now, fighting to keep his face straight. “You got it. It’s Mr. Frowny Face.”

“’Kay, Mr. Frowny Face,” Wu teases, pushing himself up on his toes to push a messy kiss against his cheek. “I’ll get your official record changed.”

“I… can’t tell if you’re joking.”

Wu breaks into a laugh. “I mean, I’m sure I _could_. But I won’t.”

“You’re too kind,” Mako drawls. He hesitates, then turns to drop a kiss against Wu’s lips. “Let’s get this finished.”

With a little more help, Wu manages to get the dough into shape, and then Mako helps him drop into a bucket he found that looks more like it’s for chilling sake than proofing dough.

“Now we let it rise,” he says, brushing flour off his shirt. His uniform jacket is draped over the back of a chair to keep it from getting dirty.

Wu stares down at the dough. “Let it what?”

“Rise,” Mako says, still grinning. “We leave it for an hour.”

“Oh. What do we do for an hour?”

“We cover it,” Mako presses one of the very nice hand-towels over the top, “and make the filling. You _really_ don’t know what you’re doing.”

“No! I don’t,” Wu agrees cheerfully, “but it’s fun to learn. I kind of miss learning.”

He was in college before. Right. “Did you finish your degree?”

Wu shakes his head, “the University was basically destroyed after the Queen was killed. I got out of there quick as I could.”

Mako remembers the chaos  _here_ after the Queen was killed, quickly overshadowed by the terror of Korra getting captured and Zaheer almost taking out the Air Nation. Wu’s whole life was upended by it. 

“’You could finish it,” he says, and turns to consult the book. They bought probably too many things for just the filling, but Mako pulls the rest of the ingredients out of the still-packed grocery bag. Dates, nuts, sugar, molasses. “Your degree. Apparently the university here is good.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Wu says slowly. He’s leaning on the counter, watching Mako work. “It seems kind of pointless, since I’m going to be King as soon as Kuvira’s done.”

“How close were you to finishing?” Mako waves him over. “You’re mixing. I don’t trust you with knives yet.”

“Probably a good idea,” Wu laughs, walking up behind Mako. Mako isn’t totally sure, but he thinks he feels Wu’s lips skim the back of his neck. “I was in my last year.”

“So you,” Mako swallows past the little jolt of awareness through him as Wu settles in beside him, “could just finish it. Before you’re King.” Which is weird to even say. Easy to forget that he’ll be on the throne, no matter how often he mentions that he’s a prince (at least once a day). 

“I could,” Wu muses, taking the whisk Mako hands him. “I guess I could do it for myself. Even if there aren’t really qualifications for being King. Except, you know.”

“Existing?” Mako finishes dryly. 

“Pretty much,” Wu shoots him a little smile. 

They manage to get some semblance of a filling made, even though a solid percentage of it ends up on Wu after he whisks too enthusiastically, and there’s a lot less in the bowl than there should be. Wu keeps peeking at the rising dough, talking idly about the classes he’d been taking before and his collegiate social life. 

It’s all completely foreign to Mako. He and Bolin were lucky that Toza taught them how to pro-bend and worked even a little on the rest of their education; he’s had nothing like the kind of concentrated learning that Wu apparently got.

Actually shaping the rolls goes a little better, even though Wu’s are kind of lopsided and droopy, and he panics about them not coming out right until Mako has to put them into the oven a little early just to stop it.

Then he has to physically drag Wu away from the little kitchen to stop him from opening the oven.

“This takes forever,” Wu complains, flopping down on the couch. 

“Just the thing you picked.” Mako has to resist the urge to lean over and swipe off some of the filling still on Wu’s face. He already got made fun of. “We never made stuff like this, really. Too long, not filling enough.”

“What did you usually make?” Wu asks, looking at Mako upside down. Mako bites down on a smile.

“Rice, eggs, noodles—a lot of stir fry. We,” he glances away, “couldn’t exactly afford food, most of the time, so really whatever we could get our hands on.”

“Stir fry is good,” Wu says slowly. Mako can feel Wu’s eyes on him. “I forget, that even in Republic City, people still struggle. Do you think that it’s gotten better with Raiko? Or worse?”

“Huh.” Mako rounds the couch so Wu isn’t staring at him upside down and sits down in the soft chair on Wu’s side of the couch. “Hard to say. I think… it’s less chaotic than it was under the council. It was hard for them to get anything done. But Raiko’s not exactly a decisive leader. Honestly,” he glances at Wu, “I think Asami and Korra have done more for the city than Raiko has. Asami’s gone into a lot of the communities that didn’t have money before and given them stuff to work on.”

“They shouldn’t have to,” Wu’s brows crease, “I never knew how bad Ba Sing Se was, when I was there. I never went outside the Upper Ring. I only learned about it later.”

That doesn’t surprise Mako in the slightest. He tries to keep the darkness off his face but he doesn’t really think he’s succeeding. “Yeah. I saw. I hate Ba Sing Se.” He remembers a second later that it’s Wu’s home and grimaces at himself. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Wu says, pushing himself up to look at Mako. “Why do you hate it?”

The words stick in Mako’s throat. He doesn’t know how to express the complicated tangle of his own thoughts: his happiness at finding out that it wasn’t just him and Bolin in the world, and his sadness at the way his family was living. How they didn’t seem to mind, the pride they took in what little they had. “My family’s from the Lower Ring,” he says eventually, a little too short.

Wu nods, his expression soft. “I read about the other rings, once I got here. Not much about them in the Upper Ring,” his lips quirk. “It’s awful, the segregation. It’s one reason I love Republic City. People aren’t forced to live anywhere.”

Mako glances at him, surprised. “Well, kind of. Some of the boroughs are worse than the others. But Ba Sing Se doesn’t technically have the rings anymore.”

“I guess not. I haven’t been back,” Wu shakes his head a little. “I know I should, but…”

“But?” Mako prompts. He’s curious. They don’t talk about this stuff very often, and Wu’s a little more aware than Mako maybe gave him credit for. A little. He’s still steeped in his upbringing, still a prince, no matter how much he’s learning.

But he is learning.

“I don’t want to?” Wu wrinkles his nose. “Kuvira is doing fine, and I’ll go back once I’m King, but it seems so, so dangerous there now. Not worth it to go.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Mako tells him, “if I were you.” Mako didn’t read much about it, too caught up the chaos of trying to get Korra back, but he knows that Wu’s aunt wasn’t the only one who the Red Lotus took out. And Hou-Ting wasn’t exactly a popular ruler.

“And,” Wu says with a smile, “I like Republic City way more. It’s so much more fun.”

“The most important thing,” Mako says dryly.

Wu kicks his feet in an effort to sit up properly. “Are you saying that this isn’t fun?” He asks. Mako just barely resists the urge to roll his eyes, still smiling.

“I guess,” he says, and shifts to look at Wu. He still has that sticky bit of filling on his face, just at the corner of his lips—Mako gives up, and reaches over to swipe it away. Wu sucks in a breath and catches Mako’s hand in his. He tugs Mako off his chair.

Mako knows that look. He lets Wu pull him onto the couch, sinking down beside him with one knee folded under himself, his entire body turned toward Wu. They have less than an hour until the rolls will be done.

“I think it’s very fun,” Wu says quietly before he’s in Mako’s space, pressing a kiss to his lips. He tastes like the sticky-sweet filling he was stealing bites of when he thought Mako wasn’t looking. This close, with Wu’s lips on his, Mako can see the dark line of his lashes, brushing against his cheek. Sun filters in through the window, painting bright patches on his skin, making his hair glow.

Mako lets his eyes drop shut and slides his lips to that little sticky patch. “You know,” he breathes, his voice already low, “the point of cooking is to eat the food when it’s done.”

“I’m looking forward to that part,” Wu murmurs, his arms sliding around Mako’s shoulders.

“Really,” Mako nudges his face back, kissing him properly, “because I just now figured out why we had less filling than we should’ve.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Wu says through a smile. Mako snorts and yanks him closer.

“Sure, you had nothing to do with it,” he breathes, and drags his lips along the line of Wu’s jaw, to his ear. His heart is racing: it’s strange, doing this in the middle of the day. Mako feels oddly exposed. Like anyone could see them, even though the door is locked and it’s just them in here. 

“Nope,” Wu laughs, and then he’s pushing Mako back into the couch and crawling over him, pushing kisses against his throat , and Mako stops thinking about how weird it is. Hard to think about anything with Wu’s lips on the shell of his ear. Sparks race all the way down his body, igniting heat under his skin. He presses his palms against Wu’s skin, shoving up his loose shirt, and lets himself sink into the distracting warmth of him.

Nevermind that Mako is twenty-one years old and the last time he was so addicted to someone was at 16, fresh off their first pro-bending win, with a girl who turned out to be a spy from the Triads to try and lure them back.

Wu isn’t her. 

Wu is present and warm and he kisses Mako with a sweet enthusiasm that shudders down Mako’s spine. Recently, Wu seems happy to just be around him. To just be with M ako, whatever it is they’re doing. Being casual.

Anyway: it’s working, whatever this is. He likes being able to push his fingers into Wu’s hair and listen to the shudder of his breath when Mako pushes kisses over his fluttering pulse. He likes this, right now, how lazy and easy it is, the slow-building heat of it that doesn’t seem to need to go anywhere. It’s nothing like the usual urgency that sweeps over Mako like wildfire.

Something else seems like fire too. There’s a scent in the air that’s too familiar.

“Buns,” Mako realizes suddenly, pushing at Wu’s shoulders.

“Huh?” Wu asks, his lips on Mako’s cheek.

“Burning,” Mako says quickly as he extracts himself from the tangle of their limbs. “Forgot the time.”

“Oh! The buns!” Wu jumps up and runs to the kitchen, eyes wide. He opens the oven and smoke comes out. “Mako!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Mako waves him aside, grabbing a towel so he can pull them out. They’re a little more crispy on top than they should be, but they’re puffy and golden. “The filling dripped, we’re good. They’re, uh,” he flashes Wu a grin as he tugs them out and onto the stovetop, “definitely done.”

“They seem fine,” Wu sighs and then his arms are around Mako’s shoulders, draping himself across Mako’s back. “Good. Thought I’d ruined them.”

“I should’ve been paying attention,” Mako says with a shrug, and bats away Wu’s fingers as they creep under his arm toward the buns. “Not yet. They’re not cool enough.”

“Aw, Mako,” Wu whines, but then he’s kissing the side of Mako’s throat again, hands smoothing down his stomach. Mako sucks in a sharp breath. They’re still doing this, apparently. The lazy, liquid heat from before is back with sharper edges, settling around them. 

“We have to wait,” he murmurs, “or the icing will melt.”

“I have an idea,” Wu breathes, and he tugs Mako around to kiss him again. Mako shifts enough to get away from the counter and the heat of the oven. The air smells sweet, and Wu is warm and pliant, letting himself be tugged closer.

Sun shines in through the windows. Mako swallows and pushes his fingers up under Wu’s shirt again. Wu sighs and arches into him, hands sliding into Mako’s hair. “I don’t really want to do anything else today,” he murmurs.

Oh.

Mako can work with that.

“We don’t have to go anywhere,” he says, a little relieved. It isn’t often that Wu wants to stay in for the evening.

He pushes Wu backwards, walking them back toward the couch without breaking their kiss, until Wu bumps into it and Mako can press him down.

Wu grins at him, falling back on the cushions. He stretches out his body, and it strikes Mako again that it’s usually dark. They rarely turn on the lights. It was illicit. This is very much not.  It’s the middle of the day and they just cooked together, and Wu is smiling at him, sweet and easy. He doesn’t get to really  _look_ at Wu like this, that bit of warm skin showing where his shirt rides up, the long stretch of his chest and his arms, resting above his head.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Wu teases, his eyes flicking over Mako’s body. He arches a little and Mako can see the outline of his cock, already hard in his silk pants.

“Maybe I am,” Mako says, mostly to be obstinate and see what Wu does. His skin is hot. Slowly, he reaches out, pressing his palm to the inside of Wu’s thigh and pushing, so his legs fall apart. Wu sucks in a breath, eyes fluttering shut. He goes where Mako moves him, his legs spreading easily, a hazy smile on his face.

Mako means to keep taking it slow, but Wu smiles at him like that and Mako has to settle on top of him to kiss him and then it gets very intense, very fast. He curls one hand around Wu’s wrist and holds it there above his head, dragging his other palm down over Wu’s chest toward that strip of bare skin. Whimpering, Wu moves underneath him, thrusting in small jerks as he kisses Mako hard. He feels like a teenager, how fast all this gets to him, how much Wu grinding against him makes him want to shove Wu back into the soft cushions and get the rest of his clothes off and just—see him, in the light.

Which, Mako realizes hazily, he can.

He’s methodical about getting Wu’s clothes off, pressing kisses to every bit of skin that gets bared until Wu is breathless beneath him.

He looks beautiful against the soft green of the couch with all that bare skin, spare dark hair curling soft on his stomach and legs. Wu pushes his hand back through his hair, watching Mako with his lip between his teeth.

Mako knows exactly what he wants.

He pushes a kiss to the soft skin at Wu’s knee and drags his tongue upward, tracing the line of his thigh.

Wu gasps and his heels dig into the couch. He breathes Mako’s name. Mako’s never gotten to see Wu’s face like this, the way his face twists when Mako bites at his hip.

“Please,” Wu gasps, pushing his hips up off the couch. His cock bobs against his hip, flushed dark.

Mako’s eyes flick up to his as he pushes a kiss against the tip. Wu whines, grabbing onto the arm of the couch. “Please, Mako.”

“Yeah?” Mako lifts his head, letting his arms press Wu’s thighs into the couch so he can’t move. 

“Spirits, yes,” Wu gasps. He’s watching Mako, chest heaving. Mako almost wants to drag this out, watch him get desperate and writhing, but Wu’s eyes are already dark and—and Mako wants him. 

Still holding his hips down, Mako wraps his lips around Wu’s cock. He’s not great at this, still. Not like Wu, who seems to know exactly what he’s doing when he does this, but Mako’s always been a fast learner, and he knows what Wu likes by now.

Wu gasps, his hips jerking up, cock sliding in Mako’s mouth. He drops them back to the couch and groans, clearly trying to keep his hips still. Mako groans, grabs onto his thighs and pushes him up. He wants Wu to let himself go, wants him to feel everything Mako’s doing to him. He didn’t know he’d like this so much: the weight of Wu’s cock in his mouth, the slick hardness of it, the mess it turns him into.

“Fuck,” Wu breathes, thrusting once, twice. “Your mouth, Mako, hn,” his eyes open, watching him, face slack. He’s talkative like this, too, and _loud,_ and the way he talks goes straight to Mako’s cock. He groans, sucks in a shallow breath—it’s hard to breathe—and Mako sort of likes the salt of Wu on his tongue and the way he’s there in all of Mako’s senses, soft skin under his hands. He shoves his palm under Wu’s ass, urging him up. Wu lets out a sound like a scream, thrusting harder. His head falls back and he reaches down, fingers pushing into Mako’s hair.

Mako groans around him, his fingers sliding along Wu’s ass, pressing, just a little. Wu’s head jerks up, eyes wide, lips parted. With a questioning noise, Mako tries that again, dragging his tongue along Wu’s cock until he’s almost out of Mako’s mouth. He lets Wu push himself back in, groaning at the weight of him.

“Yes, Mako,” Wu whispers, “I want, yes.” His hips flex, cock sliding between Mako’s lips. Mako watches the ripple of his skin as he thrusts, watches Wu’s flushed face, and just as he’s groaning something like Mako’s name, pulls his mouth off with a _pop_ that jolts straight through him. 

“Is this,” he presses his fingers, again, watches Wu shake, “a thing?”

“Yes,” Wu groans, breathing hard. His hips move in tiny jerks. “Uh, but you need, uh. Oil, lubrication. To make it good.”

“Oh,” Mako’s lips feel sort of swollen. He pushes a wet kiss at the base of Wu’s cock, still watching him, “do we have that?”

Wu’s face somehow grows redder. It’s cute, the flush under his dark skin. “Yes. Uh, in my room.” 

Mako processes that for a moment, letting Wu’s words sink in as he drags small kisses along the line of his hip. Wu’s cock bumps, spit-slick and leaking, against his cheek, and Mako turns to kiss that, too. “Do you use it?”

“Sometimes,” Wu smiles shyly. “Do you want to use it?”

“Yes,” Mako pushes himself up on one elbow. “Show me.”

Wu stares at him for a long minute. Then he shakes his head and pushes himself up. “I’ll go get it.” 

Mako sits up, freeing his legs so he can get unsteadily off the couch, and maybe watches the sun fall over his skin as he walks. Wu is gone for a long minute, coming back with a small glass bottle. 

He drops back to the couch.

Wu doesn’t quite meet his eyes, and Mako can see a thin line of tension running through his shoulders. Mako shifts closer to him, watching his face. “You don’t have to show me.”

“No,” Wu breathes, “I do, it’s just… very personal?” He glances over at Mako.

Mako smiles—he doesn’t mean to, but he laughs, a bit, ducking his head. “Wu—I just had you in my _mouth_.”

“I know! I know,” Wu shoves at his chest, “okay. Yes. I want to, I’ll do it.”

This is the most they’ve ever talked about this, Mako is realizing. A lot of things are shifting today. 

Mako steals the little bottle from him, flipping it around in his palm, pushing warmth into it. He looks at it, then up at Wu, glowing in the afternoon light. “Tell me what to do with this.”

Wu’s still staring. Then he lets out a breath and lies back on the couch. “Put it on your fingers, and you can, uh. Put them into me. Starting with one.”

“Slow?” Mako asks, as he flips open the little lid and lets it slide onto his fingers. It’s slick, and warm from the heat he put into it. He meets Wu’s eyes, letting his slick finger drag along his skin, up the inside of his thigh and along the curve of his ass.

Wu’s eyes flutter shut, but he pulls one leg up to his chest. “Yeah, slow. I, no one’s ever done this with me before.”

“That’s both of us,” Mako mumbles. That’s sort of nice. Wu’s been one step ahead of him this whole time, pulling them into this in the first place. It feels more even, watching Wu gasp as Mako slides a finger into the tight heat of him. And Mako’s done something like this with girlfriends before but his fingers pressing into Wu is something entirely different.

“Fuck,” Wu gasps and turns his face into the cushions.

“Good?” Mako asks breathlessly. He can’t take his eyes off Wu. “How does it feel?”

“Good,” Wu agrees, “deep, uh. Yeah.” Mako could do this forever, he thinks. He follows Wu’s cues, watching his hips twitch up when it starts to apparently feel good. Mako has two fingers inside of him and Wu is gasping and twitching. His cock is leaking against his own stomach, and Mako stares at it for a moment, then dips his head to wrap his lips around the head.

He wants, abruptly and very badly, to see what Wu looks like when he falls apart. 

Wu throws his head back in a silent scream, body tensing up off the couch. He thrusts into Mako’s mouth and back on his fingers and Wu’s hands cover his face, pushing into his cheeks. Mako groans around him, fire running along his spine. He hasn’t even gotten his own pants off, and he’s hard enough to hurt and watching Wu like this, feeling him clench tight and slick around Mako’s fingers—it’s intense, and Mako can’t stop.

It doesn’t last long. Wu is making noises into his hands, gasping and moaning and cursing. He thrusts into Mako’s mouth and tries to warn Mako with a, “I’m, I’m gonna,” before he comes in Mako’s mouth. Mako can _feel it_ around his fingers, his muscles going tight as he comes. 

He almost pulls back, but he makes himself stay put, groaning softly as Wu’s voice tips over into silent breath. Mako only lifts his head when Wu slumps onto the couch, his arm thrown over his head. Wu is quiet for a long minute, and then his hand slips down into Mako’s hair. Slowly, Mako tugs his fingers free, watching the slide of them with hazy fascination. 

“Fuck,” Wu breathes, shuddering. Then again, “fuck.”

“Yeah,” Mako agrees hoarsely. He lets his head drop against Wu’s thigh, slick with sweat.

“That was,” Wu sighs, body limp, “uh, I’ve never felt like that. Before.”

Mako lifts his head. “Really?”

Wu shakes his head. “No. Never. Mako,” he tugs on Mako’s hair. Mako meets his eyes, shifting. He’s still so hard that it hurts, and no position is comfortable, especially with Wu looking at him like that. Wu tugs again, “kiss me.”

“Demanding,” Mako murmurs, and pushes himself up to comply. His lips are still swollen, a little raw. Wu pulls him into a deep kiss, arms wrapping around his shoulders, dragging Mako down against his body. Mako groans as Wu’s leg presses up between his thighs, grinding against his cock.

“Fuck,” he gasps, lifting his head to meet Wu’s eyes. “Wu—”

“What do you want?” Wu asks, eyes dark. 

A lot of things. Mako’s head is reeling. “My pants off,” he breathes, “and your hands on me.”

“Yes,” Wu breathes, and his hands slide down Mako’s chest, fingers lifting the hem of his shirt. Mako lifts his arms and lets Wu tug it over his head, laughing when the fabric drags static into his hair. It’s like a return to the slow heat of earlier: Wu kisses him, and wraps his hand around Mako’s cock and Mako lets himself be pressed into the cushions. 

Wu practically glows in the afternoon light, gold lining the edge of his face as he leans down to kiss Mako. He bites at Mako’s lip, his hand stroking quick and sharp. Mako rocks into him, his body coiling up like a spring, and comes with a gasp against his lips and one arm wrapped tight around Wu’s waist.

Wu doesn’t stop kissing him, over his cheek and down his throat, hand petting over Mako’s stomach.

“I have to clean the couch later,” Mako mumbles against his hair. 

“The hotel staff can do that,” Wu reminds him, words pressed against his temple.

Mako shakes his head. “That’s why I have to.”

“Mako,” Wu groans, head dropping to his shoulder. “Stop being responsible.”

“I can’t just _stop being responsible_ ,” Mako drops his other arm around Wu’s waist. “That’s why I’m here in the first place.”

“I’m not in danger,” Wu reminds him, relaxing against his body. 

Mako pushes a kiss against the side of his head. “Not right now.”

They’re silent for a long moment, then Wu pushes himself up with a grin. “The buns!” Mako is startled into laughter, twisting around to watch Wu practically sprint for the kitchen. He’s still naked, and looks nothing like the royalty he’s supposed to be when he trots back with a bun in each hand and a giant grin on his face.

“So good,” he says through a mouthful. Mako accepts his own bun with a grin, squishing it between his fingers.

“Good first attempt,” he says, and takes a massive bite of his own. The buns are really good. They did well.

He does clean the couch before he goes to sleep. Mako couldn’t face the hotel staff if he didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boy needs to have at least one hobby that isn't kicking butt or sleeping under his desk.


	4. Book 1, Chapter 4

Mornings together become a regular occurance. Wu manages to drag himself out of bed two days out of three, and he sits there with Mako and his coffee, quiet unlike any other time in his life. Snow falls over Republic City one night, blanketing the skyline in white. Wu drags Mako out into it that morning with a delighted look on his face like he’s never seen snow before even though he’s been here for at least two years.

“It never snows in Ba Sing Se,” he says happily, piling snow into a compact ball between mittens that look too expensive to actually use. Mako huddles into his coat, his breath steaming between his lips. His coat is too thin to actually keep him warm, and it’s only going to get worse. He should get a new one but they’ re so damn expensive. He didn’t exactly get a raise for any of this.

“Watch out!” Wu shouts, and then the snowball bursts on Mako’s shoulder, splattering his face with snow.

Mako narrows his eyes, fighting a smile at the flushed, pleased grin on Wu’s face.“Did you just warn me about your own snowball?”

Wu snorts a laugh, and starts picking up another one, squinting at him. “I’m giving you a fair shot!”

“Terrible battle tactics.” They’re the only people in the park right now, the hotel a looming presence behind them. Everyone else in this ritzy area is, sensibly, staying inside. 

Mako watches him for a moment, then stoops to form his own snowball. He and Bolin used to have mock-battles into the winter, both for fun and to keep themselves warm and active. He knows what he’s doing.

The snowball whacks Wu in the chest and he stumbles back, eyes wide. He drops to his ass and wails, “Wu down!” 

“Oh, come on!” Mako laughs despite himself, jogging over to Wu. “You started this,” he says, and holds out a hand to help Wu out of the snowdrift he’d dropped into. Wu lets Mako drag him up, swaying close to his body.

“I know! But that was really hard,” Wu pouts at him for a second, then his lips curve into a grin and he shoves a handful of snow into Mako’s face. Half-laughing, half-shouting, Mako shakes his head, stumbling away through the snow. 

“You’re learning,” he drags a hand across his face—his gloves are too thin, too, but he can channel heat into his fingers, at least—and when Wu comes back into focus, he has more snow in his hand. 

It’s been so long since Mako did anything like this. Wu’s cheeks are flushed with the cold and snowflakes stick to his hat and the bit of his hair curling out from it. The skies opened up again at some point: snow drifts lazily down around them. 

Still laughing, Wu falls against Mako’s body, his teeth chattering. “So cold,” he moans.

“Yeah, snow is like that,” Mako says dryly. He should push Wu away, but they’re alone still and he can feel Wu shivering under his hands. “The one time you decide not to wear a scarf. I told you.”

“You did,” Wu grouses, gloved fingers curling in Mako’s coat. His eyes narrow. “How old is this coat?”

Mako blinks and pushes a bit of warmth into Wu’s limbs. He must’ve bought it the first winter he and Bolin were with Toza. It was a little big then and it fits him much better now. “I got it six years ago.” He looks down Wu’s fingers curled into the dark fabric. “What, is it offensively out of fashion?”

“It’s so thin,” Wu tells him, curling closer against him. His lips stretch in a grin. “Let’s go buy you a new coat!”

“Wu—” Mako’s breath catches. He finally takes a step back before he does something stupid like kiss Wu in public. They’re too close. “I can just warm myself back up.”

“You shouldn’t have to!” Wu grabs his wrist, “come on, let me do this for you.”

His gloves are ice-cold and Mako shivers a bit when they touch his bare skin. “It’s fine, I don’t need a new coat,” he tries to say, except that he does, and Wu is already pulling him back toward the hotel, saying something about how his coat is also out of fashion like Mako actually cares about that.

Mako ignores the little curl of warmth in his chest and lets himself be tugged along.

The coat he ends up with is much warmer, and when Wu complains at the end of the day about how cold he is (despite also buying himself several new scarves, a coat, and a wool hat), Mako sighs and pushes heat into his limbs.

He’s more than a little surprised when Wu actually does enroll in classes at Republic University. He was studying economics in Ba Sing Se, but decides to study history instead, citing that maybe there are some qualifications for King after all.

He only has a semester left, and the university is apparently thrilled to accept a prince into their ranks. Shocking, what positions of power can pull off. They’d never let somebody like Mako just waltz up and declare that he wants to finish out his classes and nevermind that his transcripts were destroyed, it’ll be fine.

Mako’s almost impressed at how quickly Wu gets them to ignore that and let him in.

* * *

On his first day of classes, Wu is out of bed as soon as Mako is. It’s a dark morning, the slowly-rising sun hidden behind sullen clouds hanging low over the city, threatening more snow. The radiator practically shrieks as Mako, in his warmest possible sleeping clothes, pads into the kitchen to start breakfast. 

Wu bought him slippers the other day (or, he must have, they just appeared in Mako’s room and Mako’s stopped questioning it when that happens) and Mako is very grateful not to have to touch the cold tile.

Wu stumbles in only a few minutes after he gets the coffee on, looking bleary-eyed, wrapped in the thickest robe Mako’s ever seen.

“Are you… nervous?” Mako asks, when he almost drops the mug of coffee Mako presses into his hands. There’s a distinctly tense set to his mouth.

“No,” Wu says too quickly, then ducks his head. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes,” Mako shoots back. “What are you nervous about?”

Wu grimaces, bringing his knees up to his chest in the kitchen chair. “I haven’t been to school in two years.”

“And?” Mako doesn’t quite get it, but then, he hasn’t had a formal education since he was seven. “Is it hard?”

“I don’t know if I’ll remember anything!” Wu groans, “or if I even learned the same things as them. I shouldn’t have changed my focus. I’ll be so behind.”

“You said most of your first classes were in history anyway,” Mako points out. He would be surprised he remembers that except that Wu talked over every facet of what to study aloud, for two hours.

“I know,” Wu sighs, glancing up at him. “You’re not letting me whine. I just want to whine a little.”

“I don’t get the point of whining,” Mako says, but he turns back to their little icebox to pull out the batter he made yesterday for rice pancakes. “Go ahead. Whine for a minute. I’m listening.”

Wu doesn’t say anything immediately. Mako busies himself with heating up the skillet and re-mixing the batter, bubbly and tangy after a night in the icebox.

He’s just pouring the first pancake when Wu’s arms wrap around Mako from behind, face pressing between his shoulders. 

He’s been doing this more: hugging Mako or pushing soft kisses against his cheek. It still makes Mako feel too-tight and very seen, like they shouldn’t be doing it. He stiffens a little in Wu’s arms before he makes himself relax. It’s fine. No one’s here, and Wu is warm against his back. Mako lets him stay there while he lifts the pan, letting the batter run to the edge.

“I just don’t want to mess up,” Wu admits while Mako is cooking, his chin perched on Mako’s shoulder. 

Mako reaches for his spatula, another thing Wu silently bought after Mako mentioned offhandedly that the hotel’s one was too thin. “You’re not going to mess up,” he says quietly, and then, “if you do, who cares? That’s what you’re going to school for.”

“Yeah,” Wu mutters, “but I’m also a prince. I feel like I need to live up to that.” Mako hums. He can guess at the kind of pressure Wu is under.

“Korra felt like that too,” he nudges the pan, watching the thin cake slide. “All this pressure.”

Wu nods with a sigh, “you’re right. And she’s done a lot. I, I’ll do that too. Once I’m King.”

“I’m not saying the pressure’s not there, but Korra’s thing was just to trust herself, and do what she thought was right.” 

“What if I don’t trust myself?” Wu asks in a tiny voice, arms tightening around Mako.

“Uh,” Mako has to think back to the South Pole, Korra unsure, and Unalaq’s perfect words. She needed someone else to trust her first, to prove that her trust in herself wasn’t misguided. Mako had been right about Unalaq, but he gets it now. “Well. I think you’ll be fine. You already made it through most of this. You’re just finishing it out.”

“Yeah,” Wu agrees quietly. “Yeah, I just need to do it.” He presses a kiss to Mako’s throat, arms sliding off him.

“Exactly,” Mako smiles at him. “Help me make the filling for this. Don’t think about it until you have to.”

“Sure, Mako,” Wu smiles back, soft and easy in that way that Mako knows is just for him. 

He spends a full hour picking out an outfit, which ends up being—surprise—one of his many near-identical green suits, but with some fancy way of doing the necktie that Wu says will make him look approachable.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Mako mumbles, and herds him out the door so they aren’t late.

It only hits him that he’s going to be attending school with Wu halfway to the university.

“What am I going to do the whole time?” He wonders aloud, watching the Republic University building get closer. It’s huge and imposing, and definitely looks expensive, even covered in snow. Like a place rich people frequent. 

“I dunno. Listen?” Wu laughs, “or you could take notes for me, if you really need something to do.”

“I’m not taking notes for you,” Mako tells him dryly. “I’ll listen.” Although, he probably won’t get it. He isn’t sure Wu even knows how little school Mako attended. “I guess.”

“You could read if you get bored,” Wu offers, then his fingers slip into Mako’s and he squeezes.

“I’ll listen,” Mako repeats. His face is hot. Wu’s hand is very warm, and soft from all the lotions and things that scatter their bathroom counter. “It—might be nice. The last history class I had wasn’t exactly advanced.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit,” Wu says quietly and Mako can feel Wu’s eyes on him. 

“I stopped going to school when I was seven, ” Mako says quietly,“ and Toza taught us everything else. Not a strong foundation.”

“Yes, but you’re best friends with the Avatar and have worked with world leaders. More than I have. And you were a detective, at 19,” Wu points out. If they were in their suite, Wu probably would have kissed him then. Mako kind of wants to kiss him now.

He squeezes Wu’s hand, instead. Mako doesn’t feel bad about his lack of education, but it comes up more than he would like. P eople reference things he has no idea about like they’re common knowledge, or assume he’s an idiot when he doesn’t immediately know what some ridiculous complicated word means.

But Wu is looking at him with an expression that does strange things to Mako’s lungs.

“Yeah. That is pretty cool.”

“Very cool,” Wu teases, squeezing his hand again.

The car pulls up to the university a few minutes later and Wu takes a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

“No pressure,” Mako reminds him, because he’s getting that tight, anxious look on his face again, his lips pressed together into a thin line. “You’re gonna be fine.”

Wu hesitates, then pushes open the door, his tense mouth smoothing into a smile. The cold hits Mako like an earth plate. He tugs his coat—very warm, at least—around himself and follows Wu into the massive building.

Wu chose classes on only three days a week, but it means that there are a lot of them all at once. He has four classes in a row, and they’re technically halfway through the year, so every one of them dives right in. 

Mako doesn’t remember school being this exhausting. There’s so much information being thrown at them. Names, dates, events, context it’s assumed they have that they definitely don’t have. Or, at least, Mako doesn’t.

Wu leaves that day with a list of about 10 books he needs to buy to catch up on everything. He piles into the car with a dazed look on his face, staring down at the list in his hand.

He looks exhausted. Mako bites at his own lip for a second, thinking, and then says before he can think better of it, “I want to take you somewhere. For dinner.”

Wu blinks, turning his head to look at Mako. “You want to take me to dinner?” A smile slowly morphs his face, “I would be honored.”

“It’s not fancy,” Mako says quickly, before Wu gets any ideas. “It’s just noodles. Should warm us up.”

“I love noodles,” Wu’s teeth glint in a huge grin.

Some part of him wants Wu to see the Republic City that Mako knows. Not all of it—spirits, definitely not all of it—but the places like Narook’s with hand-pulled noodles cheap enough to fill you up and better than a lot of the fancy places Mako’s been. 

He’s inexplicably nervous, holding aside the cloth hanging in the doorway in lieu of a door for Wu. Music and dim light spill into the snowy street, and Mako’s breath steams in front of his face. “Hopefully we can get a table.”

“That’s never a problem with Wu,” Wu points his thumbs at himself. He steps inside, then freezes. “There’s no host.”

Mako smiles a bit. “Not that kind of place.” He nudges Wu, stepping up to grab them a tiny table in the back. He has to poach it from a couple who give him a nasty look, but Mako just stares back at them until they quail and leave.

Belatedly, he remembers to pull Wu’s chair out for him.

“Well, thank you, Mako,” Wu says, shooting him a small smile. He settles comfortably like royalty. He stands out even when sitting there with his legs crossed primly. 

Mako’s never met someone so solidly… himself. “You’ve never been to a place where you have to seat yourself,” he observes. 

“No, I don’t believe I have! I didn’t even know that happened,” Wu just smiles, seemingly unconcerned that there was something he didn’t know. 

“Wait ‘til you see how the rest of this works,” Mako says. He’s kind of looking forward to it. “Bolin and I used to come here all the time. You can get a giant bowl of noodles for nothing.”

“So what do you recommend?” Wu asks as he looks around for a menu.

“Oh,” Mako grins a bit, “did I forget to tell you? There’s no menu. Narook’ll tell you what they made today.”

“Well then, I will have whatever Narook is making,” Wu says like a proclamation. 

Mako has to grin at him. “Six months ago you would’ve demanded to see one anyway. They don’t have the budget for menus. Narook has a soft heart. He likes to feed the street kids.”

“Mako,” Wu touches his suit over his heart, an exaggeratedly touched expression on his face.“Thank you for noticing my personal growth.”

“I spend most of my time with you,” Mako points out, “it’s hard not to notice. You really have grown.”

Wu’s carefully cultivated expression falters and his eyes meet Mako’s, holding them for a long moment. “I, ah.” He looks away. “Shall I meet this Narook?”

“He’ll be over eventually,” Mako says. It’s crowded tonight, and he has to lean close just to hear Wu. That’s good, though. Narook had a rough couple years, getting menaced by the Triads before Korra trimmed their claws. Mako did all he could to keep the place out of it, but there were only so many places he could be. 

Mako is about to say something else, but suddenly his head is wrapped in cloth and he’s being tugged into an armpit as someone yells his name.

“Hi, Narook,” he tries to pull away and fails. Narook isn’t a bender but he’s stronger than most earthbenders Mako’s met. Must be all the noodle-pulling. 

“Special night, eh?” Narook asks with a big, gap-toothed grin. Mako tugs uselessly at his arm and only manages to free his eyes. “Don’t usually see you here with anyone but that brother of yours! Hey, get me one of his headshots next time you’re in, I’m gonna put him on my wall!”

“I’m not on your wall,” Mako points out, maybe a little petulantly.

“Get famous and I’ll put you on it,” Narook shrugs.

“I’m famous,” Wu says, gesturing to himself. “Perhaps we can take a picture of Mako and me for that wall of yours.”

Narook just looks at him. “Who are you?”

“Nobody,” Mako interjects before Wu can say anything, “can we just get noodles, please?”

Wu shoots him a glare, but miraculously doesn’t say anything else until Narook takes their order of two bowls of fire flake noodles and leaves with a squeeze of Mako’s shoulder.

“So we’re under cover?” Wu asks in a stage whisper.

“Obviously we’re under cover,” Mako whispers back. “I want to enjoy these noodles in peace.”

“Right, right,” Wu smiles conspiratorially at him. Their feet tangle together under the tiny table, and Mako doesn’t think about that. “I got it, I got it. So you’re still Mako and I’m, I’m Li! Just a guy from the Earth Kingdom.”

Mako snorts, and knocks his foot into Wu’s. “Yeah, you’re real believeable.”

“I know being around royalty can intimidate the proletariat,” Wu nods seriously, even as his the toe of his shoe presses against Mako’s ankle, “but I’m just a normal guy, like you!”

“Uh-huh,” Mako is barely holding onto his laughter, now, and he can tell Wu notices because his green eyes are narrowing slightly.

Luckily, he’s saved from full-on laughing at him by Narook dropping two giant steaming bowls of noodles in front of them, as well as a small dish of pickles. “New thing we’re trying,” he says with a giant grin. “Let me know what you think.”

“Narook pulls the noodles himself,” Mako says. “They’re amazing.”

“They look amazing!” Wu’s eyes are bright and his grin is wide and real, pressing tiny dimples into his cheeks. He picks up his chopsticks, then looks at the noodles, then up at Mako.

“You’re gonna have to get a little messy,” Mako says, almost like a challenge, and slurps up a bite of his own noodles to demonstrate. Wu’s probably never had something like this in his life, now that Mako thinks about it. 

Wu mimics him with gusto, making a loud slurp and then a sigh of delight. 

Then his face turns red. “Water. Water!”

Narook’s laughter booms out over them—he must have been watching—and a few moments later a giant glass is plunked down in front of Wu. “First time, eh?”

Wu takes a giant swig of water, nodding. After a second, he seems to settle, “spicy,” he gasps.

“Fire flakes,” Mako laughs around a mouthful of noodles. “They’re supposed to make your firebending better.”

“Well, I don’t have fire bending,” Wu says through a grimace. “Is this some sort of torture?” He directs the question at Narook.

Narook bursts into laughter and flings an arm around Wu’s shoulder. “I like this kid. Eat more, it’ll get better!”

Wu freezes under his touch, eyes going to Mako. After a long moment, Wu seems to collect himself and grins up at Narook, “oh, I intend to finish all of it! I never back down from a challenge, especially one about food. ”

“Good,” Narook withdraws his massive arm with a wink. “Good luck!”

“You okay?” Mako asks as he wanders back into their tiny kitchen. Mako spent hours there as a kid, helping them heat their giant pot of broth with his hands in exhange for noodles.

“My body is burning up from the inside out,” Wu tells him, fanning himself with his hand, “I’m great.”

“I probably should’ve warned you,” Mako admits, even though he’s kind of enjoying Wu’s put-on brave face. “It really does get better.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Wu eyes him, pointing his chopsticks at Mako, “if you’re lying to me, I can have you thrown in the dungeon.”

“No, you can’t,” Mako laughs. “Well, maybe you can, but you won’t.”

Wu holds his gaze, then drops it with a sigh, “no, I won’t. That seems too great-aunt Hou-Ting for my liking.”

“You couldn’t be like her if you tried,” Mako tells him.

“You think so?” Wu asks, and there’s something open in his face that Mako doesn’t see very often. “Well, then, no, you won’t be thrown in the dungeon. This time.”

“You’re so benevolent.”

“Ah, yes, I will be King Hou-Ting Wu, the Benevolent,” Wu says airily, then grins at Mako, “tell your friends.”

“I only have four of them,” Mako says, and slurps up another mouthful of noodles.

“One of them is the Avatar, she counts for at least ten,” Wu points out.

Mako snorts at him. “You’re gonna have to impress Korra if you want her to tell people how benevolent you are.” He steals a noodle from Wu’s bowl. “You better finish, or I will.”

“I’m working on it,” Wu whacks his chopsticks aside, “not everyone can eat like a starved wolfmonkey.”

“Rude,” Mako lets a little flame bloom up in one hand, just enough to get Wu to stare at it for a second so he can swipe a noodle. It’s not his fault. Watching over a prince all day is hungry work.

Eventually, though, Wu does manage to finish his noodles, and the pickles they were brought, and then some kind of custard bun that Narook apparently made, which he doesn’t charge them for. 

“Come back when you’re famous!” Narook calls as they head out into the night. Wu is pressed warmly against his side, his gloved hand brushing Mako’s every now and then as they walk toward the Satomobile. Mako doesn’t think about that, or the persistent slide of his breath on Mako’s skin when Wu leans against him on the way home.

As soon as they’re back inside and the door is locked behind them, Mako tugs him into a kiss. Wu melts into him, hands on Mako’s hips. He sighs Mako’s name in a way that sends shudders down Mako’s spine. Mako will probably get whined at for wrinkling Wu’s nice suit, but he pushes Wu’s coat off his shoulders and shoves the jacket up anyway, pressing his hands to the bare warm skin at the small of Wu’s back.

A day of being together in public with no more touching than holding hands in the car and Wu’s foot against his ankle under the table left Mako tense and desperate, and apparently Wu is no better. He clings tight to Mako and lets himself be steered down the hallway and pressed into his ridiculous mattress so Mako can kiss him into not thinking about his classes anymore.

Mako gets into his own bed very late that night.


	5. Book 1, Chapter 5

Wu has been back at university for a month when he announces that he needs a vacation. 

“We’re going to a villa,” Wu says over coffee one Thursday morning. “Tomorrow. I’m cutting class.”

Mako lowers his mug. “You can do that?” 

“Why not?” Wu’s smiling at him, somehow looking tired and mischievous at the same time. “Haven’t skipped even one class. It’s time to let loose.”

“Should’ve figured there’d be a time limit on you not cutting loose,” Mako stifles his laughter with a sip of his coffee. He made rice porridge this morning, the remnants of which are sitting in his bowl, still. Wu, skinny as he is, eats almost as much as Bolin does, and appreciates Mako’s cooking maybe more. 

“Just because you can be uptight all the time,” Wu teases, rolling his eyes. “I’ve been so good! And it’s my birthday. I want to do something fun.”

Mako sits up a little straighter. “It’s your birthday?” Of everyone in Mako’s life he’d thought Wu would make the biggest possible deal about his own birthday.

“It’s on Saturday,” Wu says lightly, taking a sip of his coffee.

“And we’re going to a villa,” Mako narrows his eyes. “You don’t want some big fancy party with your friends?” 

“I did that last year,” Wu waves a hand, “I want to do something else this year.” 

That was one of the first giant events Mako had been to with Wu, now that he thinks about it. He’d rented out an entire ballroom—or had someone else do it, probably—and Mako had been forced to follow him around all night while Wu got progressively drunker and more wild.

That was just a few months after he was assigned to Wu in the first place. It’s been a year.

“Huh,” Mako mumbles into his cup. “Where are we going?”

“A little resort in the Fire Nation, Ember Island,” Wu looks smug, saying that. Like Mako should know that that means something.

He doesn’t. Wu still forgets that most of the time, Mako has little to no frame of reference for the things in his life. “Okay. What’s there?”

“The beach!” Wu laughs, “one of the best beaches. Do you even have a swim suit?” He eyes Mako, skimming over his body. “We should get you one.”

Mako rolls his eyes and pushes the rest of his food across the table for Wu to finish. “I have one somewhere. Probably.” Actually, Mako hasn’t seen it in about two years. “…it might’ve gotten destroyed. Should you really be skipping class?”

“Yeah!” Wu laughs and nudges Mako’s leg under the table before digging into Mako’s leftovers. He really can eat. “It’s fine. Everyone does it.”

“Sure,” Mako nudges his foot back. “I think it’s a bad idea, but sure.”

Wu sticks his tongue out at Mako.

Mako has never actually been to the Fire Nation before. He tries to play it cool, but as the airship Wu chartered for them—just for them, it’s feeling more and more like a Wu-style birthday celebration—gets closer, Mako can’t help looking out the giant windows. It’s one thing seeing the Fire Nation’s islands on a map. It’s something entirely different watching it unfold underneath him on a glittering ocean, the early-spring snow and the gloom falling away to something tropical and bright. Volcanoes dot the ocean here and there, sending up little plumes of smoke.

When they step out onto the landing pad, wet heat smacks Mako in the face, followed shortly by the thick scent of flowers. It’s nice to feel warmth on his skin again, even though he doesn’t understand how, exactly, it’s so much hotter here. They’re only half a day away by air. 

He’s glad he listened to Wu when he told Mako not to wear his uniform, or bring any kind of winter gear. 

Wu grabs his arm, grinning at him, “Are you ready for the best weekend of your life?”

“I guess?” Mako turns to grab their bags, but someone has beaten them to it. In fact, there’s already a Satomobile waiting for them, long and sleek. Wu talked a lot on the flight over about the villa they’re going to. Mako only half paid attention, but he got the important parts: it has its own pool, it’s been maintained for the royal family for generations, and they have the entire thing to themselves.

Which is kind of ridiculous. 

“What do we actually do while we’re here?” Mako asks when they arrive at the villa only to have drinks pressed into both of their hands by smiling staff. It’s a massive sprawling thing right on top of a hill, with a path leading right down to the beach. Mako makes mental notes of the doors and windows as he heads for what looks like a massive wooden deck tacked onto the back of the house. 

“Whatever we want!” Wu laughs. He’s pressed against Mako’s side, a hand on the small of Mako’s back. “You’re not working this weekend. Did I tell you that? This house is completely safe.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Mako glances down at him. “You sure?”

“Yes! I want you to have fun,” Wu smiles at him, and presses his lips to Mako’s cheek. There’s no one around, but it’s still kind of weird how affectionate Wu is being.

Then again: half his drink is already gone. Maybe he’s just tipsy and high on being on a vacation. If there’s one thing Mako knows Wu loves, it’s a vacation.

Especially now that he’s actually working pretty hard at his classes. For once Wu’s not taking a pointless vacation from a life of luxury to even more luxury.

Mako shrugs and turns to push a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He tastes like fruity alcohol. “I want to go in the ocean.”

Wu laughs and tugs Mako against him, taking his lips in a deep kiss. “Let’s go,” Wu breathes, his free hand sliding down Mako’s side.

Wu ended up buying him a swimsuit, since Mako’s was either lost or shredded when Vaatu destroyed his apartment. He’d laughed at the one Mako picked out, put it back, and bought him little shorts that make Mako feel very exposed. Particularly with the way that Wu looks at him when he comes out of the overlarge bedroom, like he wants to jump on Mako and devour him.

Wu is wearing even smaller shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. They’re short and tight and do very good things for his long legs.

At the beach, there are more drinks and the water is clear and bright and Wu is laughing, splashing in the water, more carefree than Mako has seen him. He didn’t realize that Wu wasn’t completely carefree until he sees him here, with the sun on his skin and a smile on his face. Wu pulls Mako into the water, even as he protests at the sudden shock of cold and jumps on him, legs wrapping around his waist.

“Wu—” Mako tries to catch him, laughing, and is cut off as a wave slams the back of his knees and knocks them into the freezing water. He comes up again, spluttering, tasting of salt, and laughs when Wu pops up beside him with his hair plastered to his face. “That what you wanted?”

“Yes!” Wu gasps, pushing his hair back from his eyes just as another wave knocks him over. His arms flail as he’s carried toward the shore. Mako grabs onto his skinny ankle, yanking him back out into the water.

He grins at Wu’s shout and switches to holding onto Wu’s arm, tugging him out past where the waves are breaking. The water is so clear, even with the waves churning up sand. Sun glints on Wu’s wet skin, off the bare curve of his shoulder as he wade s slightly closer to shore. A few small freckles dot his back, disappering below the waves where they lap at his skin. Mako never noticed those before. 

“Mako,” Wu says, bobbing in the water. He kicks closer to him. “You okay in there?” His eyes are even greener with all the blue of the ocean around them.

Mako shakes his head, ignoring the rush of warmth under his skin. He flashes Wu a small smile. “Race you back to shore.”

He throws himself into the water before Wu can even agree.

“No fair!” Wu shouts, trying to keep up with him. Unsurprisingly, Mako wins. When Wu catches up, he leaps at Mako’s back, almost bowling them over again, his lips pressing to Mako’s cheek. “Got you!”

Snorting, Mako catches at both of Wu’s arms to keep him from sliding back off again. He’s warm, despite the water, and pressed slick and wet and bare against Mako’s skin. “Barely.”

Laughing, Wu slides back down to the sand, arms tight around Mako’s stomach. They never touch this much in public, but this isn’t really public. This is the Earth Crown’s private beach, with only the private staff to see them. Swaying trees press in on all sides, even the beach, and Mako can’t see a single other house along the shoreline curving away into the green distance.

Wu doesn’t seem to be worried about it, so Mako decides not to worry about the way Wu pushes a kiss against his skin as they stand.

“Salty,” he says, grimacing up at Mako as he threads one chilled arm around Mako’s waist.

“Ocean,” Mako says dryly, and, after a moment, drops his arm around Wu’s shoulders. He’s shivering a little against Mako’s side, without any insulation to keep those thin limbs warm. Mako has to concentrate to do it, but he manages to heat up the air around Wu as they walk up toward the chairs under a massive umbrella right at the top of the beach.

Wu looks up at him with wide eyes. “Did you just—?”

Heat darkens Mako’s cheeks, too. “You were shivering.”

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Wu breathes. He nudges Mako down into one of the chairs and slips onto his lap. The water on his skin is already drying, leaving him salt-sticky instead of wet. Mako slides both palms up Wu’s back, dragging heat in their wake to evaporate the last of the water.

“It’s not easy,” he says, meeting Wu’s eyes. “But I’ve done it before. That day when you went out without a scarf. It’s just,” pulling one hand away, he settles back against the chair and holds his hand palm-up in front of Wu, “like a really controlled flame. Just before it actually turns into fire. Feel.”

Wu touches his fingers to Mako’s palm and gasps, “whoa, it’s so warm,” he pulls Mako’s palm against his cheek and hums, eyes fluttering shut. “You did this before? For me?”

“I’d be kind of a shitty bodyguard if I let you freeze to death,” Mako murmurs, tracing the line of Wu’s cheek, warming quickly under his hand.

Wu smiles and kisses Mako’s fingers. It feels intimate, and Wu’s eyes flutter open, looking at Mako with a soft expression. “You’re the best bodyguard.”

“Haven’t let you die yet,” Mako murmurs, and pushes his hand up into Wu’s hair to dry that, too.

No one is around to see them, so Mako lets himself follow impulse and drag Wu down into a soft kiss that slides lazily into many more. Eventually, Wu drops his head against Mako’s shoulder and mumbles something about being starved, so Mako pushes himself up and tugs Wu back up the path toward the house.

True to Wu’s word, there’s nothing to do. Or, really nothing they have to do. After only an hour of lounging on the couch on the deck, eating fruit from a bowl that appeared from nowhere and half-listening to Wu tear apart a review of some play from the local paper, Mako gets antsy. 

He leaves Wu on the deck in the sun to go explore the house and shower off the salt dried sticky on his skin.

Their things have been unpacked for them, which is kind of disturbing. Mako brought a few of his uniforms, just in case, but when he’s clean he puts on a soft shirt and loose pants that don’t stick to his legs in the heavy heat.

If he’s not supposed to be on duty this weekend, why did Wu bring him here? It’s not very _casual_ to drag your bodyguard on a private vacation to a massive villa in a different country.

It is a very Wu thing to do, though. Wu does whatever he wants with very little thought for the consequences.

He obviously still wants to celebrate his birthday—and Mako wants to get him something for it, although he has no idea what he would even _buy_ that Wu doesn’t already have. And that Mako could afford. 

The house is way bigger than it needs to be. It kind of reminds Mako of the Sato estate: pristine, full of echoes. He gets a little lost in the maze of rooms at the back of the house, away from the beach. There’s even a full-service kitchen tucked away, dappled with sunlight and swaying shadows from the trees outside. It’s spotless, and deserted, even though the house has to be full of staff, the way food keeps appearing and disappearing.

The kitchen does give him an idea, though. Buying Wu something would be useless, but Mako could probably cook him a nice breakfast on his birthday. Or, even better, dinner. He cooks Wu breakfast every day but most of the time Wu either drags him out for dinner or gets room service delivered, still. Dinner would be something a little different.

Wu would probably appreciate that more.

Not that Mako needs to get him something.

He leaves the massive kitchen with a strange tightness in his chest. Mako chalks it up to being useless here. This is more Bolin’s thing, relaxing in a giant house with people waiting on him hand and foot. Mako is kind of itchy with it.

“There you are,” Wu says, turning to him with a soft smile on his face as Mako walks into one of the three sitting rooms. He’s wearing a flowing robe over what looks like another swim suit, if it can be called that. It’s barely a pair of shorts, tight and covering essentially nothing. “I got us tickets for a show tonight.”

It’s like he read Mako’s mind. Mako smiles, some of the built-up tension leaching away. “Good. I… think I’m bad at vacations.”

Wu laughs and steps up to him, kissing him softly. “That doesn’t surprise me at all.” 

Again with the casual touches and kisses. They’re alone, Mako reminds himself, but it’s a far cry from _just two guys having fun_. Unless Wu is just that bad at maintaining boundaries. That wouldn’t surprise Mako in the slightest: he’s spending his birthday weekend with _Mako_ , instead of any of the people from his classes or those glittering people at the parties. 

This probably is casual for him.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” he mutters as he takes a step back. “This house is a maze. Why do you need a pool? The ocean is _right there._ ”

Wu shrugs a shoulder. “You’d have to ask my great-uncle. I think he’s the one who put that in.” His eyes skim over Mako, “You look good like this.”

“I get the impression you hate my uniform,” Mako says dryly, even as heat prickles through him at the look on Wu’s face. 

“It’s cute,” Wu bites down on a smile, “but you’re not really a uniformed officer anymore. You know you can wear whatever you want, right? Well, at long as it’s nice.”

“And run everything I wear by you to see if you approve?” Mako asks, almost teasing. “No thanks.”

“Only when we go out,” Wu laughs, “really, Mako. Wear what you want.”

Mako bites down on a grin. “You might regret that.”

Wu narrows his eyes. “Oh yeah? You’re telling me you have a terrible fashion sense? Ugh, no, don’t answer that. Of course you do.”

“I didn’t exactly have the luxury of picking out clothes that looked the best on me,” Mako says, elbowing him. “When’s the show?”

Wu’s eyes light up. “We should go shopping! For you. There are some great places here,” his grin is too big. It’s sort of worrying. “Oh, and it’s at seven. We can get dinner first.”

“Just dinner,” Mako says firmly, and ignores Wu’s answering whine.

The show, it turns out, is some wild recreation of an old story about two warring Fire Nation islands and the love of their doomed royalty. The production value is absurdly high, but Mako can’t get into the story, even though Wu is misty-eyed beside him with both the prince and the princess die in each other’s arms. They spend the entire drive home debating whether it was good or not, and when they get back, Wu pulls Mako into his room and kisses him.

The next day, Mako wakes up early in his absurdly-large bed and goes to hunt down some of the invisible staff before Wu is up.

Eventually, after searching half the house, Mako finds someone in the kitchen and asks her to get some ingredients for him. It feels weird, because he’s perfectly capable of getting them himself except he saw last night exactly how far from town they are, and there’s no way he could slip away without Wu noticing. They spend almost all of their time together, these days.

Mako shakes that strange thought off, and waves the woman—Aiko—away to get some coffee made, telling her he’s just fine making it himself. 

Wu drags him into town later that day and despite Mako protesting the entire time buys him a soft red tunic-thing that is very distinctly Fire Nation.

“This is fun for me, Mako,” Wu says, even as Mako carries the shopping bags, a few of which are for him, the rest of them are Wu’s. 

“Yeah, I got that,” Mako dodges out of the way of a woman carrying about as many bags as he is, scowling, “but the clothes I have are _fine_. They do the job.”

“Clothes shouldn’t _do a job_ ,” Wu shudders, “they should make you feel good!”

“They should make you feel warm and, you know, covered.” Mako hefts one of the bags up onto his shoulder. There are way too many. He wishes he hadn’t convinced Wu to walk along the beach to town instead of driving. The sand is hot under his bare feet. He shifts down to walk on the hard-packed wet sand instead.

“Well, yes, at a minimum,” Wu twirls around to look at him, walking backwards along the beach, his shoes in his hand. “Someday, Mako, you’ll come around on this.”

“I really won’t,” Mako says, and holds out one of his arms, laden with three bags. “Hold this.”

Somehow, Wu doesn’t even complain, taking the bags in his hand. “I think you will. You just haven’t had nice clothes before.”

“I _did_ , I just gave the one nice thing I had to my grandmother.” Mako edges sideways, away from the surf and a laughing couple shoving each other into the waves. They’re slowly moving away from all the people crowding this part of the beach, and Mako is glad for it. He had no idea this many people would be here so early in the season.

“What was that?” Wu asks, dropping back to walk next to him, his eyes fixed on Mako. 

“This scarf, that,” Mako swallows. It’s still kind of hard to talk about, even though he accepted it a long time ago. “It was my dad’s. It meant more to her than it did to me, though. He was her son.”

“That’s really sweet,” Wu says softly. Then he ruins the moment: “you would look cute in a scarf.”

Mako rolls his eyes and nudges Wu down toward the water, laughing at his offended yelp as the waves wash over his feet.

By the time they get back, the sun is riding low in the sky, staining the ocean gold. Mako is sticky, again, with sweat and sand and drying salt-air. He drops the bags on the beach, high up by the chairs and the fire pit they haven’t even used, and dives into the water in his clothes. It’s a little warmer after being heated by the sun all day, but barely. Wu yelps at the splash, and when Mako resurfaces, he sees Wu stripping off his clothes until he’s completely naked. He grins widely at Mako, then runs into the water after him.

“You could’ve just gone in with your clothes on,” Mako tells him when Wu’s head pops up beside him.

“Those clothes are too nice for salt water,” Wu retorts before diving back under the water. He swims around Mako, and rises to the surface, floating on his back. “The water feels great like this.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Mako informs him, watching the light play over his wet skin. It’s nothing new, but something about Wu completely relaxed and floating naked in front of him—Mako can’t look away. 

Wu seems to feel him staring, and looks at him from under his eyelashes. “It’s fun to be a little ridiculous, especially on a birthday. You should try it sometime.”

Mako swims a bit closer, reaching out to wrap a hand around his wrist. “One of us has to be practical.”

“It’s fun,” Wu laughs softly and lets Mako tug him closer. Mako’s blood rushes in his ears, just slightly off from the roll of the waves under them. He pulls Wu against himself, letting his hand drag down all that bare, wet skin. His lips are salty and cold against Mako’s. Wu’s arms wind around Mako’s shoulders, almost pulling him into the water, but Mako hauls him up, and Wu falls against his body. He’s warm against the cold of the ocean around them.

“We should get inside,” Mako mumbles against his lips. Hopefully Aiko managed to get everything. Now he just needs to distract Wu long enough to at least start cooking before he sees what’s going on. Wu loves to be surprised, and if all Mako is doing is making dinner for him, he can at least inject a little mystery to make it more interesting. 

“No one’s going to see us here,” Wu breathes, fingers pushing through Mako’s wet hair.

Shivering, Mako leans down to kiss him again. “It’s getting cold. And—we just should.”

Wu groans, holding him tighter, “fine,” he mutters, but not before kissing Mako harder. When Wu pulls back his is face slack, his hands running down Mako’s arms. “You should come back to my room.”

“Later,” Mako tells him, a little breathless, and reaches up to push his hair off his face. “There’s something I want to do first.”

“What’s that?” Wu asks, looking up at him with parted lips. Something sharp and hot curls through Mako, lodging in his chest. He sucks in a tiny breath and kisses Wu again, a little dizzy. He can’t seem to stop doing it, and Wu isn’t helping, tilting his head with a soft groan and wrapping his arms around Mako again. The kiss goes from soft to messy and wet very quickly, and Mako forgets what he’s supposed to be doing until a wave washes up against them both and he pulls away with a gasp.

“I can’t tell you,” he breathes, and shakes his head. “C’mon, we’re going in.”

“Mako,” Wu whines, but he lets himself be pulled toward the shore. He’s very bare and he’s half-hard and he clings to Mako’s arm on the sand. Mako wants to push him down on one of those beach chairs and wrap his lips around Wu’s cock, watch him writhe with the setting sun glinting on his skin.

But they’re out on the beach where anyone could see them, and as turned on as Mako currently is, he can’t quite make himself do something like that.

Also, it’s Wu’s birthday, and Mako hasn’t done anything yet to acknowledge it.

He holds firm, grabbing one of the wrap-things Wu bought himself earlier out of a bag for him to wear as they head back up to the house. “It’ll be worth it,” he says, when Wu tugs him into another kiss. “Promise.”

“Mm, I trust you,” Wu breathes, smiling against his lips.

Mako’s never found it harder to tear himself away.

Somehow, he manages it, and tells Wu to take his time in the bath, which is the one way he knows to actually keep Wu occupied. 

Sure, he also has to throw himself into a very cold shower for a few minutes before heading to the kitchen, but that’s fine. Aiko managed to get everything he asked for, and actually smiles at him when he asks for her help to prep everything. 

He’s lucky that Wu is very vocal about his favorite foods. Mako knows exactly what to make: fritters, with octopus from the market, a papayamelon salad, and noodles in a rich broth. It’s the most food Mako’s ever made at once.

Dinner is almost done and Aiko has already left when Mako hears a gasp from behind him. “This smells amazing!” Wu says, peering over Mako’s shoulder. “What are you making? Is this why you told me to take ‘as long as my royal body desires’ in the bath?”

Nerves curl through Mako, even though Wu just said it smelled good. “You were supposed to take longer,” he says, half-turning into Wu’s arm. He smells nice, fresh and clean from his bath, a little like saltwater. “It’s not done yet.”

“Are you making me a birthday dinner?” Wu asks. The smile on his face is gigantic. Mako has to turn back to his soup base, and he’s glad for it, because his face is suddenly hot. 

“Yes,” he says, and pushes some heat into the broth to make it bubble. “Hand me those mushrooms.”

Wu does as he asks, skipping the mushrooms over to him and pressing a messy kiss to his cheek, “yes, sir.”

Mako dumps them into the broth and waves him away. “We’re eating outside. Go sit, this is almost done.”

He's a little surprised when Wu does exactly that, still smiling. “I’ll pretend to be surprised,” he says before he ducks out of the kitchen. Mako smiles down at the soup and turns the burner up.

Wu is lounging at the table when Mako finally brings everything out. He made probably too much food, but Wu likes to eat and he didn’t want to waste any of the ingredients Aiko got for him. 

“You could have lit these,” Mako says, and reaches into two of the lanterns to light them with his fingers. He tosses a tiny flame into the lantern hanging above them, lighting the candles in there and sending soft gold light swinging over Wu’s face. 

“Then you wouldn’t have done that,” Wu laughs, sitting up when Mako slips into the seat across from him.

“Wouldn’t be a birthday dinner without a light show,” Mako says with a tiny grin. He pours Wu a cupful of a fancy soju he found in the cupboard. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Mako,” Wu says quietly. He looks soft in this light, relaxed and easy away from the rush of the city. He’s looking at Mako in a way that makes him feel bare, exposed, with a small smile. Mako ducks his head, his face hot.

“It’s gonna get cold,” he says, and pushes the plate of fritters toward Wu. 

“Fritters!” Wu gasps, and then scoops up four of them onto his plate.

He’s enthusiastic about every dish, commenting on the flavor and texture of each piece, moaning softly whenever he takes a first bite. Mako would be embarrassed, except that Wu’s descriptions of his food are getting increasingly ridiculous and it’s just making him laugh. 

“Should I be offended?” He asks, half-laughing, when Wu describes the soup as “a bite of the ocean, but literally!”

“No! I wish I could eat the ocean. If it wasn’t so salty,” Wu shoots back. “But like, like the power of it! The magnitude! That’s what this soup is giving me.”

“It’s giving me mussels,” Mako laughs. “But okay.”

Wu pouts at him, but in the way that Mako knows means he isn’t actually sad. “What I’m saying, Mako, is that your food is amazing. This might be the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten.”

Mako’s brows shoot up. “That can’t be true. I didn’t even buy any of it. Technically I think you did.”

“Buying stuff is easy,” Wu says, leaning in with that soft smile again. “Making stuff is hard. You even made fritters! This is really, it’s really sweet, Mako. Thank you.”

Mako’s heart thuds against his ribs. “Why did you want to come here? Instead of having party or something?”

“We needed a vacation,” Wu says, reaching across the table to squeeze Mako’s hand, “and I wanted to spend some time with you, without your job getting in the way.”

“Uh,” Mako flips his hand over, twining their fingers together. “You are my job. Remember?”

“Not today,” Wu says softly.

“Right,” Mako shakes his head. “Vacation. Why is it so hard to be on vacation?”

“Because you’re bad at doing nothing,” Wu laughs, “we’re heading back tomorrow. You only have to entertain yourself for a few more hours. And… well. I have some ideas for tonight.”

“Yeah, I think I know what those ideas are,” Mako says dryly. “I got you dessert, too, if you’re interested.”

“Dessert!” Wu sits up straight, “oh, what is it?”

It’s a roll cake that Mako found in town earlier and bought when Wu was distracted in one of the clothing shops, and when he brings it out, Wu actually claps his hands together.

It’s fully dark by the time they’re done, the lanterns and the moon the only light. Wu finishes his piece of cake and crawls out of his seat, slipping onto Mako’s lap, pressing his lips to Mako’s cheek. “You’re the best, Mako.”

“Good birthday?” Mako asks, dropping his arms around Wu’s waist. He’s close and warm and his lips are sweet with sugar. 

“Great birthday,” Wu grins and kisses him deep and hot. Mako lets himself get lost in it this time, alcohol buzzing warmly under his skin. It’s easy to get his hands under Wu’s loose clothes. Mako drags a palm along his skin, feeling Wu shiver under his hands. He wants these off.

“About those plans,” he breathes, when Wu finally lifts his head.

Wu hums, fingers brushing over Mako’s cheek. “Yeah, I,” he sucks in a breath and Mako swears he can feel Wu’s heart beat. “Uh.”

“Tell me,” Mako says in a voice that comes out both firmer and hoarser than he means it to. He nudges Wu’s face aside, dragging his tongue wetly along the line of his jaw so he can’t kiss Mako to hide his words.

It takes Wu another minute to say it, swaying against Mako’s body, hands running over his shoulders. “I want you to fuck me,” he says at last, barely audible. 

“Fuck,” Mako says, barely more a word than a groan. He has a bare idea of how that might work, something along the lines of pressing his fingers into Wu, slick and hot. “Really?”

“Yes,” Wu nods, his fingers pressing hard into Mako’s shoulder. 

Mako kisses him hard. “Yeah,” he breathes, a little unsteady, trying to imagine it. “Yeah, I want—yes.”

Wu smiles, slow and hazy, “carry me to bed?”

“No,” Mako says with a grin, and stands up with Wu still in his arms anyway. Wu holds on tight with a laugh. At least he’s light, and he kisses Mako’s cheek, nosing against him as Mako carries him into the house.

“So strong,” Wu breathes against his lips. Mako snorts, kisses him, and nudges open the door to Wu’s room to drop him unceremoniously on the bed. “Hey!” Laughing, Wu grabs onto him and pulls Mako down on top of him, kissing him.

“Sorry, _your royal highness_ ,” Mako breathes, snorting at Wu’s noise of protest. “You didn’t tell me what to do once we got here.”

Wu narrows his eyes at Mako and wraps his legs around Mako’s hips. “I thought I made it very clear.”

“Not exactly,” Mako drags one hand up his thigh, listening to the desperate hitch in Wu’s breath. 

“I want,” Wu breathes, teeth scraping Mako’s ear, “your cock inside me. I want you to fuck me hard, Mako. I want,” he sucks in a breath and moans, low and long, “Spirits, I want you.”

“Oh,” Mako has to think about that for a second, pressing his face into Wu’s shoulder. “Yeah, yes, okay.” he lifts his head again, meeting Wu’s eyes. 

“You want me?” Wu asks, voice soft, his body stretching out under Mako, loose and warm from the alcohol and the food.

“So much,” Mako says, a little breathless. Heat thrums under his skin. He leans down to kiss Wu again, grabbing at his wrist to push him down. He has no idea what it is about Wu that brings out this side of him. His poise, maybe. Mako wants to ruin it. He wants Wu panting and desperate. Wu moans into his lips and his hips roll against Mako’s, cock hard against his stomach. 

“You’re gonna have to tell me,” Mako gasps when he finally lifts his head again, “what I need to do.” Wu is watching him with flushed cheeks and dark eyes and Mako dips his head, dragging a kiss along the soft skin of his throat. He can still taste the ocean-salt on his skin. 

“You know what to do,” Wu assures him on a breath, fingers pushing back through Mako’s hair. “Use your fingers, help me open up, until I can,” he licks his lips, “until I can take your cock.”

“Oh, fuck,” Mako groans, dropping his head to Wu’s shoulder while he absorbs that. “You’re too fancy to be talking like that,” he mumbles. And then, before Wu gets the wrong idea, Mako lifts his head and meets his eyes and says, a little helplessly, “keep doing it. Tell me more.” 

He doesn’t know what it says about him that he likes watching Wu’s cheek flush like this, taking his time with these words that sound so wrong in his royal voice, but it goes straight to his cock. Mako files it away with the other things he’ll think about later, when he has the time.

Wu groans, hips moving against him so Mako can feel how hard he already is. “Spirits, Mako,” he smiles dizzily, pushing a kiss to Mako’s temple, “I, I love your cock. I love how it, it feels in my mouth, against my hand. I’ve wanted you to fuck me for months,” Wu covers his face with his free hand, then peers out from between his fingers. “I probably shouldn’t’ve said that.”

Mako bites at the curve of his shoulder through his shirt and says, roughly, “Get this off.” He kisses Wu’s throat again and sits up, petting both hands down Wu’s thighs, watching him dizzily. “I like it when you talk like that. It does,” he hesitates, his throat working. Wu is watching him. Mako smiles, his own face hot, and tugs at Wu’s hand, pressing the heel of his palm against Mako’s cock.

“Yes,” Wu gasps, and then he’s sitting up, stripping off his clothes one piece at a time. He watches Mako as he slides out of his pants and says, more sure, “I love how much you want me. I love that you want me as much as I want you. That I can have you, here, with me. I love,” he cuts himself off with a sharp breath, and kisses Mako hard. Something flutters in Mako’s belly, pressing sharply up into his lungs. He brings a hand up to Wu’s face, drags his thumb over Wu’s cheek and tilts his head. 

His own heart pounds loud in his ears.

For a while they stay like that, locked together, kissing frantically until Mako gets tired of fabric under his fingers and shoves at Wu’s shorts, the only thing left between him and Wu’s skin. Wu kicks them off, and then his hands are on Mako’s shirt, pulling it off of him carelessly. More often than not, Mako leaves some of his clothes on when they’re together. Not because of any particular thought, but because it’s less necessary. He wants to touch Wu, and Wu wants to be touched.

Tonight is different.

Like this entire trip.

Mako shoves that thought away in favor of dragging his tongue over Wu’s newly-exposed skin while Wu shoves Mako’s pants down his thighs. He traces a line over Wu’s ribcage—he’s so long and so thin, and his skin is so warm. Once his pants are off, Mako presses Wu back against the bed and drags a long line of biting kisses up Wu’s chest. Wu cries out and clings to him, blunt nails digging into his shoulders. Mako’s cock drags on his belly, just enough friction to make him groan.

“Mako,” Wu groans, thrusting up against him, “Mako, I need you.” Breath stuttering, Mako kisses him hard and sits back up, his hands dragging down Wu’s chest.

“Get the oil,” he says, watching heat flare in Wu’s eyes. He’s gorgeous like this, all sprawled out with his breath coming fast.

Wu smiles up at him, leaning up to take a kiss before he slips out from under Mako, padding over to a bag on his dresser. He holds up the little bottle, waggling it back and forth as he walks back to Mako, his cock bobbing against his stomach. “Now what do you say?” he teases.

Mako arches a brow at him, sitting up so his knees dig into the bed. He watches Wu’s eyes drag down his body and then flicker back up to his face, and grins. “Get over here.”

Wu rolls his eyes, “not what I was going for, but,” he shifts forward, knees on the bed, pressing the bottle into Mako’s hand with a deep, searing kiss. 

Mako has fingered him a few times since the first time and every time it seems to get more intense than the last. Last time, Wu ended up fucking himself on Mako’s fingers, sprawled over Mako’s lap on the couch with his cock trapped hard between them. 

Mako bites at the shell of his ear and pulls him close. He wants that again, if they’re taking this farther. He wants to feel everything while he’s doing this. 

“I want your fingers in me,” Wu breathes, his body arching when Mako bites his throat, just under his ear. “Fuck, I want you, Mako.”

“Keep talking,” Mako tells him breathlessly as he slicks his fingers, maybe the first time he’s ever told Wu that. He wraps his hand first around Wu’s cock just to feel him twitch and groan, slides his thumb over the tip the way Wu likes. He’s hard and leaking and his cock twitches every time Mako kisses at his skin, and Mako curses and slides his hand down, along Wu’s ass.

Wu moans softly, face pressed to Mako’s throat, hips jerking minutely against his hand, “you, you, Mako. You make me feel so good. You do such sweet, nice things for me. And such fucking filthy things to me. Fuck.” Mako presses one finger into him, slow and steady, and Wu’s breath hitches like it always does.

It’s easy to get lost in him, in the heat of him, in Wu’s quiet words about how good Mako’s fingers feel inside him. In how much Wu wants this, and in how much Mako wants him, too. When Mako gets three fingers into him they both groan, their lips colliding. Before long Wu is thrusting relentlessly onto Mako’s hand and Mako’s mind is blank of everything but him.

“Now, Mako,” Wu moans, tugging at his hair, “That’s enough. I want your cock.”

You,” Mako mumbles, “are amazing.” He feels a little wild, desperate with the rhythm building between them. Slowly he pulls his fingers free, reveling in the long, thin gasp he gets for it and the way Wu chases after his fingers.

“Mako,” Wu moans, dragging him into a kiss that wracks through his body. Wu’s tongue thrusts into his mouth, again and again just like his fingers were. “Fuck,” Wu gasps, staring down at him. “Fuck, slick your cock. Now.”

“You do it,” Mako tells him, watching Wu’s face as he presses the little bottle of oil back into his hand. “I want to feel you.”

Wu sucks in a breath, still for a moment before h is hand is on Mako, taking his time, sliding over the head, and down. Wu watches him with an expression that Mako can’t quite read. It’s intense, and Mako can’t tear his eyes away, can’t do anything except feel and watch and dig his fingers maybe too tight into Wu’s hip. 

Then, all at once, it’s like a spell breaks, and Mako surges forward, kissing him hard. His cock nudges slick against Wu’s skin. Groaning, Mako yanks him forward, and Wu reaches behind himself and holds Mako’s cock still as he sinks down.

Mako’s breath shatters in his lungs. It’s _nothing_ like his fingers: Wu is moving so slowly, his breath hot and wet on Mako’s shoulder, and he’s so tight and so hot. Mako makes a high, breathless sound he’s never made before, holding onto Wu as tight as he can. “You feel so good—” he’s talking without quite knowing what he’s saying, his voice low.

“Mako,” Wu says in a broken voice. His head drops back, his hips sinking down until Mako is deep inside of him, until Wu’s ass is against his hips. He’s breathing hard, his fingers digging into Mako’s shoulders.

“How,” Mako’s voice is shaky, “how does this feel?” He drags his hand down Wu’s back, feeling the tension there, until he’s gripping Wu’s ass, his fingertip just brushing against his own cock where it disappears into Wu. 

“Full. Deep. Fuck,” Wu groans, and then his hips are moving in small twitches, Mako dragging out just a little, then slamming back into him. 

“Do that again,” Mako seals his lips over Wu’s throat, his brow furrowed, trying to anchor himself against everything sweeping over him. His other hand settles at the nape of Wu’s neck, first light and then gripping as Wu obeys and lifts himself up again, his breath wavering. 

Wu slams his hips down and he gasps, sharp and breathy. Then he does it again, and again, building up a rhythm that has him gasping and clinging to Mako and swearing with words Mako didn’t even know that Wu knew. 

Then he starts to slow, his breath coming faster, and Mako grabs onto his hips and shoves, and somehow he manages to push Wu down into the pillows without slipping out of him. It takes a moment for Mako to find the rhythm again, adjusting, dragging Wu’s leg up. Wu throws his head back and wraps his thighs around Mako’s hips, and Mako can only pant and press desperate kisses against the line of his shoulder, one hand holding Wu’s ass up off the bed and the other locked tight with his.

“Mako,” Wu says again, his voice high and desperate. “Mako, Mako,” he grabs what he can on the elaborate headboard, holding on like he needs it. He manages to look at Mako, meeting his eyes, and he smiles, hazy and dizzy and happy. Then Mako thrusts into him again and Wu throws his head back with a loud, “fuck!”

Mako shudders, pressing his face into Wu’s shoulder. That warm, sharp-edged thing from earlier lodges neatly in his stomach. Wu is close, he can tell, his hips rolling up to meet Mako’s sharp and fast, and Mako turns his head and shoves his lips against Wu’s pulse, meeting every thrust. Wu’s head falls back, his body tightening, legs vices around Mako’s hips.

With a shudder and a cut-off gasp, Wu comes. It’s hot and so tight and Mako can _feel_ it. He can feel Wu come around him, gripping his cock so tight it almost hurts. Mako groans out something like his name, barely above a breath as he chases after the fire building under his skin. He comes a few agonizing seconds later with his face shoved into Wu’s shoulder and his fingers like a vice around Wu’s wrist.

Mako stays right where he is while his heart rate slows, vaguely aware of Wu’s breath damp at his throat. Their fingers are still tangled together, and Mako squeezes his hand, his thumb trailing along the soft skin at the inside of Wu’s wrist. It shouldn’t feel different, but something does. Maybe the fact that Mako doesn’t want to stop touching him, wants to stay right where he is no matter how sweat-damp and sticky they both are.

Wu presses a kiss to Mako’s cheek, breaking into his thoughts. “You’re heavy,” Wu mumbles. Mako snorts, and lets himself turn leaden for a moment. “Mako,” Wu complains, pushing at him without really trying. 

Laughing, lightheaded, with that strange heat still burning, Mako lifts himself up. The motion makes his cock slip out of Wu, finally, and they both groan at the feeling of it. 

“Fuck,” Mako announces, and drops down beside Wu, one arm draped over his chest.

Wu nods in agreement, stretching out his body. “That was,” he starts, but then bites his lip, looking at Mako. Mako meets his eyes. His eyelashes are thick and dark, brushing against his cheeks when he blinks, and moonlight paints silver-gray patches on his skin.

Mako palms at his hip and slides his hand up, tracing along his ribcage. He tugs, and Wu shifts, easy as anything, until he’s pressed along Mako’s side. Finally, Mako racing heart calms.

“Intense,” he finishes a bit late. 

“Yeah,” Wu agrees, arm wrapping around him, head pillowed on Mako’s chest. “Very.”

With Wu so close, Mako can feel his breathing, the sweat drying on his skin. His whole body is sticky but he doesn’t want to move. He pushes a wet kiss to the side of Wu’s face instead.

“I’ve never,” he says, and then snorts. Wu probably already knows. 

“Me neither,” Wu admits softly, fingers threading through his hair.

Mako shifts, just a little, so he can meet Wu’s eyes. Somehow, in the darkness, they’re still so green. 

“Wouldn’t’ve guessed,” he says, and pushes a hand into Wu’s hair. “The way you were talking.”

“Uh,” Wu laughs and kisses him softly. “I thought about it. A lot. With you.”

“I didn’t, but,” Mako kisses him again, “I also didn’t know any of this.”

Wu shifts closer, his body pressing against Mako’s, skin on skin. “You do now,” Wu murmurs, tucking his face into the hallow of Mako’s throat. “This was a pretty perfect birthday.”

Mako still finds that hard to believe. Sure, they’re on an island, but Wu didn’t have anyone here except people who are being paid to be. He drags a palm down Wu’s back. “What was the best one?”

“Besides this one?” Wu’s hand trails down Mako’s chest. “Hm… when I turned seven, my parents threw this big party with actors and clowns and a petting zoo. That one was pretty great too.” 

Mako presses him a little closer, slotting his leg between Wu’s. “You don’t talk about your parents much.”

Wu is quiet for a second. “They were killed, after my great-aunt was. It… it still kind of hurts to think about them.” Mako sucks in a sharp breath, memory hitting him.

“That was recent,” he says, voice soft. 

“Yeah,” Wu breathes, “I’m lucky they didn’t get me too.”

Mako tugs at him until Wu’s leg slides over his. “Were you close to them? Before?”

“Kind of. I mean, they were pretty important and busy,” sighing, Wu’s arms wrap tight around Mako’s chest. “But they were there. They were there and we had each other. Kind of like you and your brother, right?”

Mako smiles into the darkness, hiding it in Wu’s hair. “Yeah. All we had for most of our lives.” He forgets, sometimes, that Wu is the last person in his family. That the Red Lotus took out every other person he’s related to. 

He knows what it’s like to be alone, maybe more than Mako. At least he always had Bolin. 

Wu makes a small noise, pressing a kiss to Mako’s throat. “You miss him.”

“Yeah,” Mako admits softly. “I worry about him, too. We’ve never been apart for this long.”

“Do you think he’ll come back to Republic City anytime soon?” Wu asks.

“No,” Mako breathes. Wu’s lips graze his throat again, and lazy, content heat curls under Mako’s skin. “I think he’s finally doing something he’s good at. He’s always liked helping people, and now that’s his whole job.”

“Helping unite the Earth Kingdom,” Wu breathes.

Mako snorts. “He described it as ‘I’m a literal hero,’ but yeah. More or less.”

Wu laughs and pushes himself up, looking at Mako with a soft expression. “I want to meet him. And your other friends.”

“What about your friends?” Mako has to ask, meeting his eyes. It feels rude to ask _do you have any_ but Mako can’t stop thinking that it’s just the two of them, that there are so many people Wu could have invited.

Wu’s smile falls slightly, “uh… I dunno. I haven’t really talked with my friends in Ba Sing Se in years. I don’t know how many of them are… y’know,” he grimaces.

“Yeah,” Mako fills in, frowning. Wu’s life in Ba Sing Se seems so far away from everything, now. All he ever talks about is the dizzy whirl of parties and social events and ceremonies. “That’s kind of what I mean about the parties. It doesn’t seem like anyone’s there to actually, you know. Make friends.” He pauses, and grins at himself. “I know that isn’t the point.”

“Yeah, it’s not,” Wu’s lips quirk again, and then he kisses Mako, soft and sweet. “At least I have you.”

Mako leans into the kiss, his heart hammering into his own ribs. He tugs until Wu is half-sprawled on top of him, Mako’s palm pressing into his bare skin, and the kisses turn slow and lazy until Wu finally drops his head, pushing his nose into the hollow of Mako’s shoulder. He can probably feel Mako’s pulse, fluttering and uneven.

"Did you ever come here?” He asks quietly, his mind oddly sluggish for how awake he is. “With your family?”

Wu hums and nods, “yeah, when I was little. Back then, there were a lot of us. I had to share this room with my cousin,” he laughs, fingers teasing in Mako’s hair.

“The house makes more sense now,” Mako trails a hand up his back, over the jutting edge of his shoulder blades. “For a lot of people. Right now it’s like Asami’s old place.”

“Big and empty? Probably haunted,” Wu snorts a laugh. “I bet there’s some spirit of an ancestor in here. I hope we scandalized them.” Mako doesn’t even try to hold back his laughter, turning his face against Wu’s temple. 

“I bet they like it,” he says, snorting. “We did them a favor.”

“Mako!” Wu slaps his arm weakly, then dissolves into laughter. “I don’t want my great-great-uncle or whatever watching us!”

“They’re spirits, Wu,” Mako says with a grin, “there’s nothing we can do about it. We’re the only entertainment they get.”

“Ew,” Wu shakes his head quickly. “No, no, no, I don’t want to think about that at all.” Mako is still laughing, even as he pushes a kiss to the side of Wu’s face.

“You brought up spirits,” he says, “I’m just following your idea to its logical end.”

“Mako,” Wu whines, even as he sinks back down next to him, “you’re awful.”

“No,” Mako says dryly, “your ancestors are the perverts here.”

Wu whines louder, pressing his face into Mako’s chest. “Nooooo,” he breathes, and Mako loses it, his shoulders shaking with his own laughter. Wu joins him, the sound pressed against his skin before Wu is kissing him again, smiling against his lips. “You're,” he says between kisses, “so,” another kiss, “terrible,” and another, messy, smearing across Mako’s cheek. Mako turns his head to catch Wu’s lips in a proper kiss, shutting him up for a few seconds that drag out into silent kisses.

“Tell me,” Mako says against the corner of his mouth, “more about your family.”

Wu smiles softly, and starts telling him about his parents, his cousins, his uncles and aunts. He had a pretty big family, until a few years ago. He tells happier stories about lavish vacations and family dinners and formal events. About things he loved, and a few he didn’t. He doesn’t talk about how they died, letting them dwell on before the Earth Kingdom fell.

They talk until deep into the night, and fall asleep tangled together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since they're on Ember Island we COULD have just recapped the entire fic up to this point in play form but we decided this was better.
> 
> [Bliarzo](https://twitter.com/bilarzo) drew this excellent [smutty fanart](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EhMH7FQWAAUujYb?format=jpg&name=large) for this chapter. NSFW


	6. Book 1, Chapter 6

Mako wakes to a numb arm, a mouthful of Wu’s hair, and the sun peeking redly through the curtains.

They’ve been back for a day, and he hasn’t slept in his own bed.

Groaning, he pushes himself up, or tries to, but it turns out he’s trapped under Wu, who’s sprawled all over him with his leg still thrown over both of Mako’s and his head tucked into the crook of Mako’s shoulder.

“You sleep like Bo,” Mako mutters, knowing Wu probably isn’t awake to hear him. Wu barely moves, his lips parted, face soft with sleep. Mako is too warm, his skin itchy from being tangled up in someone else all night.

He shifts just enough that he can move the arm under Wu’s head, shaking at his shoulder. “Wu. Let me up.”

Wu groans and curls up tighter, face pushing into Mako’s chest.

“Wu,” Mako tries again. He huffs, blowing some of Wu’s hair off his face. It’s as much of a bird’s nest in the mornings as Mako’s.

A hand slaps weakly against Mako’s ribs. Wu’s brow furrows. “G’back to sleep.”

Mako bites down on a smile, rolling his eyes up toward the headboard. “You have class,” he says, and squeezes one narrow shoulder. “C’mon. I’ll make coffee.”

That makes Wu perk up a little, eyes fluttering open. He looks over Mako’s face, then smiles, soft and small. “Oh. Hi.”

Snorting, Mako curls his palm around the nape of Wu’s neck, the soft hairs there standing up under his skin. “Hi. Who’d you think you were talking to?”

“My inner demons,” Wu laughs, his voice hoarse as he leans up to kiss Mako softly. “You’re really comfy.”

“That who keeps you in bed every morning?” Mako murmurs against his lips. 

“Sometimes,” Wu sighs, nosing his cheek. He’s so soft and warm, fingers stroking slowly down Mako’s ribs. Mako’s smiling before he really realizes it, steals another kiss as Wu mumbles something about coffee. 

“You have to let me up first,” he says, and smiles wider at the way Wu groans.

“Fine,” Wu drags his limbs from around Mako, falling back into the too-many pillows on his bed.

“You’re brave,” Mako tells him dryly. Finally, he pushes himself up, his arm prickling as it wakes, and immediately goes into a long stretch. His whole body is protesting having been a pillow all night. 

Wu makes a small noise, and when Mako glances back at him, Wu is watching him with a small smile on his face. 

He blinks and lets his arms drop. “What?”

Wu shakes his head, lips pressing together. His hair really is a mess: curly, and flying everywhere, sticking up a bit in the back. They never put clothes back on last night, Mako realizes. His neck and shoulders are killing him, probably from Wu’s useless down pillows.

“You should get up,” he tells Wu as he slips free of the soft sheets, and drops one more kiss against his lips before he stands and heads for the bathroom.

Mako sleeps in his bed again that night, and wakes up with the same kink in his neck that he has to work out later.

After four nights, he gives up and brings one of his own pillows into Wu’s room, and that helps. Wu still sprawls all over him, but he’s funny in an incoherent kind of way in the morning, and Mako’s always liked having people there. He’s less used to sleeping alone than he wishes he was. Sleeping like this feels familiar.

A week later, he claims a spot for his toothbrush in Wu’s massive bathroom. It’s easier than wandering back to his own every morning.

* * *

“Wow, that was boring,” Wu groans when they’re out of the university building. The class they were just in was three hours long, and Mako had to keep prodding Wu in the ribs to keep him awake.

“More than usual,” Mako agrees with a grimace. “What’s the point of just listing dates? It’s the worst part of history.”

“Ugh, I know,” Wu sighs, throwing his arms up over his head. “And all that homework! Why does there need to be so much homework?”

Mako laughs and tugs Wu back before he can run into the open door of the Satomobile waiting for them. “You’re almost done. Another month.”

Wu looks up at him, lips parted. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” he smiles and Mako thinks for a moment that Wu might kiss him, right here in public. Mako doesn’t move away, his eyes locked on Wu’s.

But Wu pulls back with a sly grin and dances toward the Satomobile. “Only a few more awful classes!”

Mako follows him after a second, his heart pounding strangely. 

Wu actually does fall asleep in the Satomobile on the way back home—which, to be fair, is partially Mako’s fault, they were up late last night playing a game and then Mako had to kiss Wu to keep him from gloating once he won, and things spiraled from there. He’s drooling a bit on Mako’s shoulder when they pull to a stop in the cool darkness of the lot under the hotel.

Biting down on a smile, Mako shakes him awake. “Hey. We’re back.”

Wu mumbles something, turning into Mako’s shoulder.

Mako snorts. “Wu. I’m not your pillow, c’mon.” They have some event to attend that night, some kind of fancy party about fashion, Mako thinks. Wu’s been talking about it almost non-stop for a week, and he’s probably going to need a while to get ready for it. 

“Fine,” Wu sighs, picking himself up with a groan. “I need more sleep.”

Mako glances away, hiding a grin. He rounds the car to pull Wu up to his feet. “We have that thing. You can sleep later.”

“Right, right,” Wu wavers against him. He wrinkles his nose, then his eyes light up. He looks over Mako’s face, then grips his hand, tugging him toward the elevator.

Mako lets himself be dragged, waiting until the doors are shut behind them to turn to Wu and figure out why he’s suddenly alive with energy. He raises both brows, waiting. Wu will tell him. He always does.

“I want you to wear something else,” Wu tells him, fingers trailing down the front of Mako’s uniform. “To the show.”

“Why?” Mako asks. His voice comes out low, tinged with breath. Wu’s looking at him with familiar heat in his eyes. “And… what?”

"It’s not fun when you just stand in the corner,” Wu says, leaning up against Mako’s chest. “I want you to enjoy the show with me. So I want you to dress like my… friend.” He hesitates before saying the last word. That hesitation prickles at Mako for some reason he can’t name. He looks over Wu’s face, the little sun-freckles scattered over his cheeks that appeared after Ember Island. His lips are curved in an uncertain half-smile.

Something warm and soft curls up neatly in Mako’s stomach. He drops a hand at the small of Wu’s back, tugs him forward and leans down to kiss him. “So, my suit, then? I don’t even know what the thing is.”

“The suit is a little formal,” Wu breathes against his lips before kissing him again. “Hm… I think we need to buy you something new.”

“You can’t just keep buying me things,” Mako protests. “What’s wrong with the suit?”

“Too formal,” Wu says again, tugging Mako with him as the door dings and slides open. “You’ll need to look a little less stiff, more modern.”

“What does that even mean,” Mako asks without any hope of understanding Wu’s answer. He lets Wu pull him toward the couch like he does almost every day after class now. It’s getting harder not to touch him too much in public. Mako keeps wanting to push his fingers into Wu’s hair or kiss him when he says something ridiculous and overdramatic, which is a lot of the time.

Usually, Wu will climb into his lap, kiss him until they’ve both forgotten everything they learned. But today, he pushes Mako onto the couch and gives him a short kiss before he pulls back with a grin that sends heat coiling in Mako’s gut. “I’m going to go through your clothes, ‘kay?”

Mako blinks at him. “Okay? Should I be… there for this?”

Wu turns back to look him over appraisingly. After a moment he decides: “Sure! I think I know what you like, but it can’t hurt.”

Which is how Mako ends up watching Wu go through the dresser in his room while his clothing choices get torn apart. It’s a lot funnier than it should be:

“Is everything you own grey?”

“How many of these do you own? Did they give you a discount?”

“Ugh, another tank top. Why are they all ripped?”

“At least your shoes are nice. You should take care of the rest of your clothes this well!”

“You know that your clothes say, like, nothing. You’re saying ‘I am a boring person’ with these clothes. But you’re not a boring person, Mako!” Wu whips around to face him, holding up a jacket Mako hasn't worn in years. 

Mako has to shove his palm over his face to keep his grin hidden. Wu can’t know how funny this is, he’ll just do it more. Mako’s not doing a great job of hiding it, though. “Maybe I was a boring person,” he says through his own laughter. “You don’t know.”

“I do know,” Wu says, tossing the jacket on the small pile he made on Mako’s bed. He stalks toward Mako, pushing a hand through his hair. “I know that you’re not boring because I like you, and I don’t like boring.”

“You don’t, huh,” Mako says as mildly as he can, letting Wu tilt his head back. He’s trying so hard to keep a straight face, but his lips are twitching and Wu’s eyes narrow more and more as Mako talks. “Never could’ve guessed that. Never even seen you get bored, and you’re so good at sitting in silence—” 

Wu cuts him off with a sharp kiss, and he tugs on Mako’s hair. “You’re not funny, Mako.”

Mako grins against his lips. “Yes I am.”

“Ugh,” Wu tugs harder on his hair, but he’s smiling now and he kisses Mako again, biting at his lower lip. “You clearly have nothing to wear.”

Mako glances at the pile of clothes next to him, then back at Wu, his brows raised. “Clearly.”

“Not funny,” Wu sing-songs and shifts back to his feet. “We’re going shopping.”

Three hours and at least four stores later, Mako is sitting next to Wu in a dark room, watching people dressed in wild clothes walk down a runway. He himself is wearing something he never thought he would like: a shirt that’s almost a tunic, tighter pants, and a fitted leather jacket. He didn’t look at the price. He doesn’t think he could. Come to think of it, it may not have even had a price on it. 

At least he fits in more. He thinks he gets why the suit wouldn’t have worked here. Even Wu is dressed like this, looking different in soft pants and a strange, shiny jacket.

Wu keeps whispering things to him, explaining the outfits and the designers and making comments about the clothes that make it hard not to burst out laughing. People keep shooting Mako looks, and he’s pretty sure it’s because he’s snorted a few times, listening to Wu.

It’s kind of nice to not be pressed against the wall watching Wu enjoy himself.

Not that this is Mako’s scene, really—none of it is—but Wu is kind of a force of nature at events like this, and having that all that attention on him makes it a very different experience. 

Maybe it’s because Wu actually knows what he’s talking about. He talks a lot of crap about a lot of stuff, usually, and Mako half-tunes it out because he’s pretty sure even Wu doesn’t know what he’s going on about. Here, though, he has expertise on his side.

Mako likes being part of it. 

When the show is over they all filter in to some kind of reception—a much more familiar scene, full of weirdly tall tables and drinks and the usual tiny food—and instead of retreating Mako actually stays at Wu’s side. He even gets a few (confusing) compliments on his outfit, mostly by drunk people.

“I had nothing to do with this,” he says after the third person tells him that they like his jacket. He edges a bit behind Wu. “All him.”

Wu flashes the man a grin, but hauls Mako back to his side. “He looks great, doesn’t he? Not many can pull off the new Waralee.”

“That’s a Waralee?” The man gasps and reaches out, yanking Mako’s arm up to inspect the cuff. Discomfort prickles over Mako’s skin. He tugs his hand free, frowning, as the man goes off about how hard they are to find and where in Republic City could Wu have gotten this.

Wu nods magnanimously and talks to the man for a few more minutes about the jacket. Mako didn’t know that there could be this much conversation about a single piece of clothing.

When the man finally leaves them alone, Wu smiles at Mako, running a hand over the sleeve of his jacket. “He's not wrong. You look spiffy in this.”

Mako’s face is hot. His whole body is hot, really. He blames the jacket. “You picked it out. I’m just wearing it.”

“That’s half the battle,” Wu assures him, eyes meeting Mako’s. 

“You… know a lot about this stuff,” Mako says quietly.

“It’s a hobby,” Wu says with a flick of his fingers.

Mako bites down on a smile and adjusts the jacket. It’s weird, and looser than almost everything else he owns, but it does seem to fit. “Even for a hobby. Where’d you learn about it?”

“Hm,” Wu shifts, eyes flicking over Mako’s face. To anyone at this party, they look together, like friends, or something more, huddled together around this table, each with a drink in their hand, even if Mako’s is water. “In the rags, mostly. But also, since I’ve been here, I’ve gotten to know a lot of the designers. It helps them, having royalty wear their looks.” His lips quirk.

“Is that where that red suit came from?” Mako has to ask, flashing him a grin. “That thing is weird.”

“The red suit isn’t weird,” Wu shoots back, “it’s gorgeous!”

“It’s really weird,” Mako says, and laughs when Wu’s eyes narrow. 

“How is it weird,” Wu shifts closer to him, a challenge in his eyes. Mako narrows his eyes right back. Even if he doesn’t know the language like Wu does, he’s not about to let Wu win this.

“The ends,” he reaches over to tug at the ends of Wu’s jacket, “aren’t even at the same height. It looks like they made it wrong.”

“Well, it’s not,” Wu breathes. He’s so close to Mako now, almost pressed against him. His cheeks flush and he bites his lip. “Want to get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Mako says immediately. He isn’t going to give Wu the chance to stay longer, especially if he doesn’t actually want to.

And Mako knows that look.

Wu presses against his side as soon as they’re in the Satomobile, his lips curled into a tiny, satisfied smile. Mako drags a palm up his thigh and keeps it there, watching Wu squirm and flush redder and redder as Mako trails fingers along his skin through the soft pants.

“Mako,” Wu whines, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, his eyes narrow and his hips flex, pushing into Mako’s hand.

Mako says nothing, but he smiles to himself and lets his knee fall against Wu’s thigh, too.

As soon as the suite door is locked and their shoes are off, Mako shoves Wu up against the wall to kiss him hard and fast. Wu melts against him with a moan, hands tugging on this damn jacket. 

“Sure you’re not going to ruin it?” Mako breathes against his lips as Wu shoves it down off his shoulders. He lets go of Wu only to let it drop to the ground behind him and then pins him again, dragging his lips along the line of Wu’s jaw like he’s wanted to all damn night.

“Mako,” Wu whines again, fingers curling in his shirt. “Should really, should hang it up, it’s, it’s very nice,” he gasps as Mako nips at his throat.

Humming, Mako presses his hands up under Wu’s shirt and drags his teeth over the sharp point of his collarbone. “Later,” he breathes, and lets one hand drop, pulling Wu’s thigh up to drag them closer together.

“Yes,” Wu gasps, hips bucking against his. “Yes, Mako. I want you.”

Mako curses into his skin as Wu’s cock drags against his, hard and hot and very close. “I like,” he shoves Wu back into the wall, rolling his hips to make Wu moan, “these pants. Yours.”

“Should’ve known,” Wu grins breathlessly at him. He lets Mako hold him, pressing him flush against the wall, pliant under his touch. “That that was the way to get you to like fashion.”

“Make it convenient and I’ll like it,” Mako shoots back, and hauls Wu up with one arm so Mako can start to undo the buttons on his fancy shirt. It’s just as loose as the pants, made of some kind of soft, watery material that parts easily under Mako’s hands. 

Wu laughs and leans back on the wall, giving Mako full access to his chest. “I might’ve thought about that. Maybe.”

Mako’s eyes flick up to his. Wu grins at him, wide enough to press dimples into his cheeks. 

Snorting, Mako has to lean in and kiss him while he pushes Wu’s shirt off his shoulders and shoves his pants down. Then Wu is bare against him, which is exactly what Mako wanted, and Mako can get lost in kissing him and the way their bodies rock together, hard and fast. 

Wu mumbles something into his mouth, his leg hooked behind Mako’s thighs. Mako can feel a lot more in these clothes, which are so much more comfortable than what he usually wears. He can feel Wu’s cock sliding against his stomach, the muscles of his calf digging into Mako’s leg.

Mako bites off another curse that gets muffled against Wu’s lips and then drags his mouth down over Wu’s throat again. His skin is already damp with sweat, and he keeps thrusting up and Mako wants him so badly that his head is spinning a little. He shoves Wu hard against the wall and then pulls back, meeting his eyes. “Oil,” he says, voice hoarse. “Or something. I want to fuck you like this.”

“Go get it, then,” Wu orders lazily, grinning at him. His eyes are hazy, his hair already a mess, dark skin beautiful against the stark white wall behind him. Mako groans, and kisses him again and then leaves him like that, moving as quickly as he can. Wu procured with a larger bottle at some point, which is good, because they’ve been going through it like wildfire.

Mako comes back to find Wu still leaning against the wall with his hand wrapped around himself, and his mouth goes dry.

“Fuck,” he breathes, frozen, watching Wu’s thumb slide over the tip of his own cock, the long arch of his throat.

Then Wu meets his eyes and something snaps, and Mako is over there and kissing him again in the space of a breath. Wu ruts up against him, letting go of himself to slide his hands over Mako’s ass, tugging at these stupidly tight pants that Wu convinced him he should get. Got for him, really.

“Off,” Wu gasps, even though his body doesn’t stop moving against Mako’s.

Mako bites at his lip and moves back just enough. “So get them off.”

Wu’s eyes spark, and his hands slide into Mako’s pants, squeezing his ass. He inches down to the floor, taking Mako’s pants and boxers with him, pushing the tunic thing out of the way. His breath spills over Mako’s cock, and he looks so good: bare and flushed, on his knees.

“Fuck, you—” Mako starts, and doesn’t even know how to finish the sentence, especially because Wu sways forward and drags a wet, messy kiss along the crease of Mako’s thigh. Mako yanks the tunic over his own head, watching Wu’s eyes. He skirts around Mako’s cock, making him groan, frustrated, until he gives up and reaches down to yank Wu back up to kiss him. Wu presses his tongue between Mako’s lips, hopping up to hook his legs around Mako’s waist. He’s so light that Mako can hold him up like this, pressing him back against the wall.

“Fuck me,” Wu groans, head falling back, “fuck, Mako. Want you.”

“That’s why,” Mako gasps, and lifts him up just enough to get one oil-slick finger into him, “you wanted to dress me like this, huh?” They’ve done this so much in the last few weeks since Wu’s birthday that Wu takes it easy as anything, throwing his head back. 

“Want you anyway,” Wu laughs between little gasps as Mako thrusts two, then three fingers into him. “Just want you to, to,” he doesn’t finish the sentence, cut off by a moan as Mako brushes something inside him. 

Mako pushes a hard kiss against his jaw and breathes, “Want me to what?” as he slides his fingers free.

“Have fun with me,” Wu manages to finish after he catches his breath. His heel digs into Mako’s ass, fingers clinging to his shoulders.

Mako sucks in a breath, something warm unfurling in his belly as he hitches Wu’s thigh up, bracing him between his own body and the wall to keep him up. Wu groans, long and low, as Mako presses into him and stays there, his head shoved into the crook of Wu’s shoulder. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Wu gasps after a second, his hips thrusting in tiny bursts. “Please, Mako!”

Lifting his head, breathless already, Mako meets his eyes and shifts, just enough to make them both gasp, and then Mako’s teasing patience runs out all at once. He breathes something like Wu’s name as he moves, fucking him hard enough that he has to shove a hand behind Wu’s head to keep him from hitting the wall. Wu lets out a cry, and Mako would worry that someone might come check on them, except that they never have before. Mako is the one protecting him, and the one fucking him.

And Wu wants this.

Wu gasps and moans and begs, hands tugging hard on Mako’s hair, hips moving as much as they can, pinned as he is. He groans out something like Mako’s name and Mako leans into kiss him, the world narrowing down to Wu’s thigh braced on his hip and his mouth on Mako’s. It really, really doesn’t last long. Couldn’t, because Mako’s been wanting to do this at least since the beginning of the show and Wu’s clearly not much better. Wu comes, gasping into his mouth, body tightening around Mako’s cock. He thrusts hard once, twice and buries his face in Wu’s shoulder with a soft sound.

A while later, Wu mumbles, “ow. Mako, I can’t feel my legs.”

“I can,” Mako breathes, and snorts at his own dumb joke as he tries to shift. He pulls back, first, and then lets Wu down so they both sink down in a pile of sweaty limbs. Wu is in his lap, arms still around Mako’s shoulders. He slumps against him, body limp.

“I liked that,” Wu murmurs into his chest, fingers running down Mako’s arm. 

Mako drags him closer, drops a kiss against his head, and stays there. “What,” he mumbles, “the joke, or the sex?”

Wu slaps at his shoulder. “You’re not funny,” Wu grouses, but he’s smiling and holding Mako closer.

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” Mako grins against his head, “and then laughing anyway. So.”

“Nope,” Wu mumbles, curling up against him. “Mm, carry me to bed?”

Mako snorts. “Once I can stand, sure.” It is kind of his fault that Wu’s legs don’t work. Or his own, for that matter.

“’Kay,” Wu sighs and rests against him.

It’s nice. It feels very nice, Wu curled up against his chest. He can touch him, petting through Wu’s hair, Wu’s weight heavy against him.

Eventually, Mako manages to shift up to his feet before they fall asleep like that. It’s a near thing: once they’re cleaned up, he’s asleep practically before his head hits the pillow.

* * *

Mako still makes breakfast every day, but now Wu wakes up with him, dragging himself to the kitchen table and reading the day’s news aloud to Mako while he cooks. 

Asami has built roads around another section of the Spirit Wilds, and her new central train station is almost complete.

“She’s really turned things around,” Mako says, when Wu says offhandedly—he really should have mentioned before—that he was invited to the completion ceremony. “For Future Industries, I mean.”

“She’s pretty impressive,” Wu agrees thoughtfully, “maybe I should hire her. You know, to fix up some things in Ba Sing Se.”

Right. Mako frowns down at the congee he’s stirring. Ba Sing Se. Wu’s going to be there once he’s king. “She’d like an international contract, I bet. Future Industries is her baby, and she’s still trying to live up to her dad—” he snorts. “She’s better than he ever was, but she won’t believe that.”

He can feel Wu’s eyes on him. “You’re pretty close, huh? How come you’ve never invited her over?”

“She’s busy,” Mako says, shrugging a shoulder. “If you call her, you just get her assistant reading you a list of all the appointments you have to wade through to talk to her.” He’s tried at least twice and given up halfway through. Asami’s assistant is terrifying, and Mako always feels a little bit like she wants to stab him with her voice.

“Sounds important,” Wu shifts up from the table and pads over to kiss the back of Mako’s neck. “What do you want to do today? I really need a break from homework.”

“You don’t have any grand plans?” Mako shifts to give him room at the stove. “Spas, or something?”

“I thought it would be fun to do something else,” Wu says, leaning against his side. 

“I’m shocked,” Mako says dryly, and nudges his hip. “Grab the chili flakes for me. This is almost done.”

“Think about it,” Wu says as he does as Mako asks, handing him the chili. “What you want to do. We should do something you want to do.”

Mako hasn’t thought about how he wants to spend an entire day in more than a year.

He looks down at the bubbling congee. “I’ll think about it,” he says, and smiles when Wu grins at him.

They’re halfway through eating when the telephone rings. Frowning, Mako pushes himself up—they almost never get calls—and goes to answer it.

He blinks at the creaky old voice on the other end, and pushes the receiver against his chest. “Wu,” he calls, leaning over to look at him, “it’s some old guy for you.”

“Huh,” Wu walks over to him and takes the phone, “hello, Prince Wu at your service.”

Wu’s eyes go wide, and wider, as he listens. He grabs at Mako’s arm. Mako raises his eyebrows, watching Wu’s mouth drop silently open. “What?” He murmurs, and Wu just taps furiously at his arm with one hand.

“Uh huh, yes,” Wu’s saying, “yes, that works. A month? Uh. Yes. Yep. Okay. I mean,” he clears his throat and says, in his Royal Voice, “yes. That would be acceptable.”

He hangs up the phone and then his arms are around Mako. “It’s finally happening!”

“What is?” Mako half-catches him, stumbling back a little bit. “Who was that?”

“Gun! The Queen’s advisor. Or my advisor, I guess,” Wu pulls back with a grin, “we can finally have my coronation!” 

“That old guy who tried to get us to get rid of Pabu,” Mako says, a vague face flashing in his mind. “Wait,” he meets Wu’s eyes. “He said a month.”

“Yes! It’s finally happening,” Wu laughs, and then he’s kissing Mako, holding on tight. A month, Mako thinks dizzily. A month and Wu will be the Earth King.

“It’s… kind of sudden,” he murmurs against Wu’s lips. Questions spin together in his mind. Mako asks about half of them. “Do you know anything else? Why now? Where? Do you have to do anything for it?”

“Apparently Kuvira united one of the last provinces,” Wu says, and squeezes Mako with a giant grin. “So it’s almost time for me to take over. I guess we have to plan it! Like, really fast.”

“We,” Mako says carefully. “You and… Gun?”

“I think mostly Gun,” Wu says, leaning into Mako’s chest. “Not that I trust his taste… hm. Maybe I should do some of it. Most of it?”

“He doesn’t seem like the creative type,” Mako says dryly. “So—what do you need to do? Is it… in Ba Sing Se?”

“I think it’ll be here? Neutral territory, is what Gun said,” Wu pulls back, then sucks in a breath. His cheeks are flushed with excitement, and his eyes are wide. “I need a new suit!”

“You have 37 suits,” Mako says, letting him go. Wu is practically vibrating with energy.

“I don’t have a coronation suit!” Wu protests, running to his room. 

“One of them could be a coronation suit!” Mako calls after him, but Wu is already gone. 

At least he knows what they’re doing today. 

Apparently getting Wu fitted for a suit that looks exactly like his other suits, to Mako’s eye, is an all-day enterprise. They’re in a little boutique in the middle of the city, and it’s just them and the tailor, and tailor’s assistants keep offering Mako champagne. Wu asks for his opinion about every single piece of fabric and then disregards it, which is fine, because Mako has no idea what he’s talking about.

“Do you,” he asks, as Wu stretches his arms out for the tailor to pin… something, “know anything about the ceremony? How big is it?”

“Big! Very big. At least it’s supposed to be,” Wu flashes him a smile. 

Mako really can’t get over the fact that it’s in a month. Wu is going to finish his classes in just a week or so, and then he’ll be the Earth King.

After hours of this, Wu insists that they go to a book store (a nice one, this time, with no dust) where he buys six ancient looking tomes about Earth Kingdom culture.

“I need to know so much more about this,” Wu tells him with a laugh. 

He hasn’t seen Wu this happy since Ember Island.

“What do you need to know?” Mako asks around four of the books. Wu wouldn’t carry all six of them back to the car. 

“About the coronation! I’m not going to get it out of Gun, that guy’s a fossil.” Wu laughs, dropping into his seat. He flips open one of the books to a place he’d been reading in the shop. “There are badgermoles, Mako! Badgermoles!” 

“Of course there are,” Mako drops his stack between them. “Why wouldn’t there be badgermoles.” Wu hasn’t been this excited about anything else about ruling, which makes sense. His coronation is essentially a big fancy party all about him. “Anything in there about how to actually… you know, rule a country?”

“Oh, probably,” Wu glances at him, “but that comes later! First: the dancing!”

“When you say big,” Mako says, as Wu flips the pages. 

“Really big! They usually have,” he flips a few pages, “like six thousand people at them! Wow. We could invite all of Republic City! I mean, I know that there are more than six thousand people, so that would be figurative, but how symbolic would that be! Starting a new era of peace and prosperity, together.”

“That does sound nice,” Mako says quietly. “You could invite Korra. If you’re ushering in a new era of peace and prosperity, it’d help to have the Avatar there.”

“I should invite her!” Wu’s eyes go wide, “she should already be invited. I’ve always wanted to meet her!”

“If,” Mako says, “she’s feeling up for it.” She hasn’t answered a single one of his letters, and last he checked—which was a while ago—she hadn’t written to Asami or Bolin, either.

Wu spends the rest of the ride home reading out bits of old coronation ceremonies from his books, getting more and more excited until he’s practically vibrating in place in the elevator back up to the suite. 

“So,” Mako pulls open the door for him, “you’re excited about this.”

“Yes!” Wu laughs as he dances past Mako into the living room, kissing him on the cheek. “Aren’t you? This is what we’ve been waiting for!”

This is what Wu has been waiting for, really, but Mako doesn’t correct him. He toes his shoes off and hands the rest of Wu’s books to him. “It just sounds like another fancy party.”

“Well, I mean, I guess technically it is, but it’s also a huge cultural event! It’s the start of a reign. My reign, and a new start for the Earth Kingdom,” Wu says it all in a rush, dropping his books on the coffee table before falling back on the couch. “Finally! Three years. Three whole years, and now I get to go home!”

Mako stops halfway through stripping out of his jacket, frowning.

Right. It keeps hitting him that Wu will probably move back to Ba Sing Se, and then—what? Get wrapped up into a flurry of advisors and policy decisions or, more likely, more fancy parties while everyone else makes the decisions about how to rule. 

And Mako will go back to being a detective.

And this will be over.

He hangs his uniform jacket up with numb fingers.

Wu is still talking, saying something about traditions and the palace in Ba Sing Se, but the words themselves don’t register in Mako’s ears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the purposes of this fic was to Make Canon Make More Sense. This means that in the upcoming chapters, we do it by the book (or show, as it were). It is 100% canon compliant!
> 
> Beware: canon approacheth


	7. Book 1, Chapter 7

“I didn’t know any of this stuff,” Mako says, frowning down at Wu’s essay. 

Finals are burying Wu in an avalanche of papers and stress. Between half-planning his coronation (which really means calling Gun with various wild ideas at all hours of the day) and trying to finish his degree, Wu is a bundle of nerves. Mako’s never seen him like this: alternatively jittery and focused. 

Mako volunteered to proofread just to make Wu stop looking like the world was going to collapse around his ears. Not that Mako’s going to be very helpful: he has no idea whether things are spelled correctly, but he can at least fact-check Wu’s arguments. It’s something useful to do with his time, anyway. “About Ba Sing Se. Your family was in the dark that whole time?”

“Oh, yeah. It was pretty bad,” Wu is lounging on the couch, watching Mako upside-down with his head dangling off the armrest. “My great grandfather was basically gaslit. They didn’t tell him anything! I knew that, but I didn’t know it, you know? I didn’t know how bad it was! And they then kept doing it! To me.” He groans, shaking his head.

“A hundred years,” Mako shakes his head. “Kind of surprised the Dai Li didn’t try to stop you from learning this stuff.”

Wu hums, watching him for a moment. “They did in Ba Sing Se. Maybe Republic City really is beyond their reach.”

“Good,” Mako say darkly. “They’re still terrible. How did they do it in Ba Sing Se?”

“They had the Upper Ring contained,” Wu smiles at him, “weren’t you listening yesterday?”

“Mostly,” Mako admits, “I was distracted.”

“By what?” Wu asks, reaching out to brush Mako’s knee with his fingers.

Mako sucks in a little breath. Wu’s essay looks fine, as far as he can tell. He presses it into Wu’s hand. “I don’t know. How messed up things are right now. I don’t trust Kuvira.” 

And Bolin is out there helping her, somewhere. There was a report in the paper this morning about her stabilization of the last province. They learned that our way was right, Kuvira had said.

Mako hasn’t been able to get the words out of his head. 

“You don’t?” Wu asks, and he finally flips over to look at Mako properly. “Why not?”

“I—” Mako doesn’t feel qualified, necessarily, to talk about it, but that hasn’t stopped him before. “I just… have a bad feeling. The way she talks, she sounds like Zaheer.” 

Wu frowns, nodding slowly. “She’s helping the Earth Kingdom. She’s helping fix what Zaheer broke.”

“That’s what she wants people to think,” Mako points out. “She says stuff like that all the time. You don’t say something that often unless you really want to convince people.”

“Because it’s true!” Wu shakes his head. “Raiko trusts her, I trust her. She’ll be at my coronation! Why would she be there if she wasn’t going to step aside?”

“I don’t know,” Mako says sharply. “But I don’t think she’s going to.”

“You’re wrong,” Wu says, standing up suddenly. “This has been the plan for three years. It’s going to go fine.”

“Just because you want something to go well doesn’t mean it’s going to,” Mako sits up a little straighter. “The world doesn’t work like that.”

“What do you know about it,” Wu snaps, “this is sort of over your paygrade, Mako.”

There it is. 

Anger sparks hotly through Mako’s chest, curling like fire in his fingertips.

“More than you,” Mako says as levelly as he can manage. He can’t keep the bite from his voice. “At least I’m trying to do something with my time.”

“I am doing something!” Wu brandishes the essay, “what are you doing? Come on, Mako.”

“I—” Mako starts, but frustration and anger tighten his throat, turning his blood hot, because Wu is right. He’s never been more useless in his life. He’s as bad as—as Wu is, most of the time. He let himself fall into Wu’s frivolous routines and enjoyed it, and it’s about to be gone, and Mako can’t stop thinking about that.

He scowls, ripping his gaze away from Wu’s face. 

No matter what else they do, no matter whether Wu brings him to fancy islands for fun while his kingdom gets taken over from the inside, or kisses him in the darkness, this is Mako’s job. “I’m not talking about this.”

“Yes you are,” Wu leans into his space, frown creasing his brows, his fists on his hips. 

“No,” Mako says sharply, and pushes himself jerkily out of his chair, away from Wu. The chair scrapes loudly on the tile. “I’m not. Your essay is fine, but that’s above my paygrade, so what do I know? I’m going to bed.”

For once, Wu doesn’t say anything. He sits there on the couch as Mako retreats to his own room for the first time in weeks.

He doesn’t fall asleep for a long time. His bed is strange, the sheets musty and half the pillows gone.

It’s not that Mako is the best person to talk about whether or not Kuvira is going to give up her place at the head of the Earth Kingdom. But she doesn’t talk like someone who’s going to be okay with stepping down, and Wu isn’t exactly world leader material right now. He’s not thinking about what it means to rule, and he’s less than a month out from having to do it.

But he doesn’t have to listen to Mako about any of it. Mako’s just his bodyguard and a former detective and a kid from the streets, entirely without a purpose. 

* * *

Mako’s up before the sun the next day, bleary-eyed and stiff for reasons he can’t name, with an idea.

He can’t be out on the streets like Asami, but there’s something else Mako can do with his time. Republic City’s police is buried in new cases every day, and most of the old ones that went unsolved at the time stay that way. It’s even worse, probably, with the rebuilding. 

The idea had occurred to him way back at the beginning of this, but Beifong had shut him down, telling him to focus on his new assignment, no matter how much he hated it. Something about cop work not being as glamorous as Mako thought. But his work is about to be over, and Mako’s skills are probably rusty.

He dials her office as soon as he’s sure she’ll be there. Wu is still asleep, probably, without Mako there to wake him up.

It’s a strange kind of relief to hear her voice, even if she’s silent the entire time Mako is explaining his idea to her.

“No,” she tells him flatly, and Mako scowls into the receiver.

“It’s a good idea,” he says, knowing exactly how stubborn he sounds. He doesn’t care. He needs something to occupy his mind that isn’t thinking about Wu and his damn coronation, and he needs to remind himself how much he likes his actual job. “You need the help, and I have time.”

“You may have time, but if something happens and Raiko finds out, it’s my head.” Guilt stabs obscurely through Mako. 

“I can do it,” he tells her, “I know I can. I’ve been doing this for more than a year and the biggest threat so far has been paparazzi and he kind of likes those. Just—” he cuts off her objection, a little desperate, “think about it. I can handle it. You know I can.”

“Mako,” Beifong sounds annoyed. Mako sighs.

“Think about it,” he says again. “Have a good day, Chief.”

“Whatever, kid.”

Huffing, more annoyed than he should be, Mako hangs up the phone and skips making coffee in favor of trying to set their tiny gym on fire.

When he’s done, he finds Wu in the kitchen with two mugs of coffee, reading one of his giant textbooks. He looks up at Mako with a sleepy smile. “I made coffee. It’s awful.”

Mako blinks at him.

Wu’s smiling, looking normal, like he said nothing at all last night.

Mako’s stomach tightens uncomfortably. He grabs the untouched mug from the table and goes to fill it up with sugar. A sip confirms: it’s really bad. Way too weak.

“It’s not that hard to make,” he says, and turns to grab Wu’s mug with annoyance prickling through him again. “There’s a ratio.”

“Yeah?” Wu asks, pushing himself to his feet to follow Mako. “Show me.”

Mako scowls down at the mugs. “I’m not your butler.”

Wu wavers next to him. After a moment, he says slowly, “no. You’re not.”

Mako was prepared to keep arguing or just make the coffee himself. He wasn’t really prepared for Wu to agree.

“Good,” he says, and shows Wu how to make a good pot anyway. At least if he knows how, he can make it himself instead of relying on Mako all the time. That has to be good.

They don’t talk much the rest of the morning. Wu’s finals are racing toward him, putting some actual urgency into the half-hearted studying he’d been doing for the last few months. 

He has a meeting today, too, with Raiko and Tenzin to discuss the handover of power. Mako gets to stand outside the door, pretending that he’s doing anything aside from babysitting a prince who doesn’t believe that he’s in any danger at all.

Which is crap. Mako’s seen a lot more green uniforms around these days. There have been reports of Earth Kingdom refugees entering the city. The official announcement about his coronation must be drawing people, too. 

Wu comes out of the meeting with a tiny smile on his face for Mako, his hand brushing Mako’s arm. “Let’s get dinner.”

“Yeah,” Mako says quietly, glancing back at the closed door. Wu’s hand brushes his again, and Mako tugs his hand closer to himself, frowning. He doesn’t have it in him right now to go to one of Wu’s fancy places and pretend everything is fine. 

He takes them instead—via Wu’s driver, which feels really weird when they pull up outside—to one of the places he and Bolin used to frequent, back in their pro bending days when they still only had a tiny bit of money. It’s a hole-in-the-wall dumpling place with tiny tables and counter service.

Somehow, it escaped the destruction. It’s just as worn-down as Mako remembers. 

Mako drops into a seat in the corner, letting Wu fill the air with chatter about his meeting and his classes. The last time he was here, it was fresh off the Fire Ferrets’ first real win with Hasook, the three of them crowded around this exact table, buying as many dumplings as they possibly could with their winnings. Mako had felt, then, like he was actually making something of himself, like maybe he and Bolin weren’t just going to end up enforcers for the Triads for the rest of their probably-short lives.

He’s brought back to the present by a hand waving in his face and Wu laughing at him. “Mako? Hello? You in there?”

“What?” Mako shakes his head a bit, frowning at himself. His dumplings are just sitting in front of him. Unaccountably annoyed, Mako picks one up, avoiding Wu’s eyes. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Wu asks him, and his foot nudges Mako’s under the table.

“Fine,” Mako picks up a dumpling. Wu has no idea what it’s like to be stuck like that. He has an actual chance to make a difference to people, and he’d rather foist off all his responsibility to Kuvira. He wouldn’t get any of what Mako is thinking about. He likes sitting around, having nothing to do or worry about.

Mako knows how to tease him and laugh at his stupid jokes. He’s lost on how to talk to Wu about any of this. He should have tried sooner.

Mako can feel Wu’s eyes on him. “Okay. If you’re sure,” Wu goes back to his dumplings. “This is really good,” he says through a mouthful.

“It tastes the same,” Mako says. He’s glad, at least, that Wu dropped it. Food will always distract him.

Mako has no right to be so worn out from doing nothing but standing guard all day, but he’s ready to drop by the time they get back to the suite. 

Or, he is, until he sees a package addressed to him in Beifong’s neat handwriting as Wu is walking to his room to change out of his “meeting clothes.”

“She actually did it,” Mako mumbles to himself, sliding a folder out of the manila envelope. There’s a note pinned to the top that says Don’t get distracted.

Mako’s throat goes weirdly tight. 

He swallows hard around the feeling and settles down at the kitchen table with it. The case is one that Mako heard about before: someone found dead in the middle of the city with water in their lungs, apparently from drowning on dry land. 

The people who worked on it before already tracked down all the waterbenders in the city who might be capable of such a thing—the obvious explanation—and got nowhere. The woman had no enemies and absolutely no known connection with any of the Triads, and she wasn’t rich. 

The weirdest part to Mako is that nothing was stolen from her.

It’s an easy case to absorb himself in. He likes this part: going over the details, reading through notes and previous work, whatever it was, to try and either find something they missed or approach it from a new angle. It’s meticulous work, and Mako is good at it. He hadn’t even realized exactly how much he missed feeling good at something.

Hands on his shoulders startle Mako out of the case. He lifts his head as Wu peers over his shoulder. “What’s this?”

Mako pushes his palm down over the details, half-turning in his chair. He feels caught. “A cold case. From Beifong.”

“Oh,” Wu glances at Mako, then pulls back. “Well, that’s good,” he drops into his usual chair, “you’ll have something more interesting to do while I study.”

Mako looks up at him, frowning. “You’re okay with it?”

Wu narrows his eyes with a little grin, “what, are you trying to make me jealous?”

“No—what?” Mako shakes his head. “Why would I be trying to do that?”

“I don’t know, Mako,” Wu laughs, tugging his book toward himself. “You’ve been weird the last few days.”

“Well, maybe I’m just worried about everything,” Mako says. Wu’s already looking at his book again. “Like you should be.”

Wu glances up at him. He lets out a breath. “Is this about Kuvira again? I told you, it’s going to be fine! My coronation is three weeks away. Everything will be settled after that.”

“Yeah,” Mako says, slowly, “after that. What happens then? Once you’re King.”

“Then,” Wu starts, tilting his head to the side, “well, then I’ll be the King of the Earth Kingdom. I’ll get all my advisors and officials in line and rule the reunited country.”

Mako knows that tone. That’s Wu’s thinking-out-loud tone, flippant, slower while he pieces through his thoughts. “Right. Yeah. That all just… happens, and it’s fine.” 

What about me flicks through his mind and Mako shoves that ruthlessly away. It’s not the right question.

“I mean… yeah,” Wu’s eyes flick over his face. “That’s how it works.”

“That’s how it worked,” Mako says, narrowing his eyes. “That’s how you want it to work.” And Wu goes back to Ba Sing Se, and Mako gets his life back, and that should make him feel good. He should want that. He missed detective work.

“I,” Wu frowns at him, “are you mad at me?”

“No,” Mako says, and then shakes his head, glancing away. “Yes. It doesn’t matter if I am.”

“Mako,” Wu reaches out for his hand. “What—why are you mad?”

“You’re not taking this seriously,” Mako curls his fingers into his own palm. “Any of this.”

“What? Taking what seriously, being King?” Wu’s frown deepens. 

Everything, Mako wants to say. 

“Nevermind,” He mutters, trying to tamp down on the churning in his stomach. He turns back to his case. “I want to finish this.”

“Mako,” Wu says again, and now he does take Mako’s wrist, even as Mako pulls his hand back. “Tell me, come on.”

“Now you want my opinion,” Mako snaps, trying to pull his wrist free. “Let go. I need to work.”

“I don’t want you to be mad at me!” Wu says, too loud for the small kitchen. His voice echoes off the tile around them. 

Mako wrenches his wrist free, frustration curling hot and sour in his chest. “Guess you’re not getting what you want for once.”

“Why are you being like this?” Wu snaps at him, shoving his chair back. “What did I do?”

“Nothing!” Mako snaps back. “You didn’t do anything! You just—think it’s all going to be some big party, you haven’t even thought about what happens when you’re on the throne, and when I try to talk to you about it you tell me it’s not my place.”

“Well it’s not!” Wu’s hands curl into fists at his sides. “It’s not your place! I don’t need you telling me I don’t know how to do my job.”

Mako meets his eyes, hard and green, for a bare second. His ribs are too tight, crushing the breath out of him. “Right,” he bites out, bitter and sharp, and snaps his case file shut, “Yeah. How could I forget. You don’t have to listen to anything I say.”

“Mako!” The way Wu says his name makes his gut clench tighter. “I don’t—that’s not what I meant."

“Yeah, it was,” Mako pushes himself up from the table, just like last night. “Whether you think that or not. I have to listen to you, and you can ignore me.” He doesn’t get that, is the thing, and Mako knew that and knows that, but somehow it’s so much sharper. 

“I don’t ignore you,” Wu’s voice is small. When Mako looks at him, he looks lost.

Something sharp-edged catches in Mako’s throat. He doesn’t see it. Still. Of course he doesn’t. “You can,” he says, his voice tight, “and you do, and it doesn’t matter to you that you do. You have the luxury of just—sitting there, enjoying yourself, doing whatever you want to do, and I have to do what you’re doing, which means I’m here babysitting you while my friends try to make the world a better place!”

“Oh,” the sound is barely audible. Wu stares at him, cheeks flushed. “Okay. Fine. If that’s how you feel,” he sucks in a sharp breath and picks up his book nonchalantly. “Have fun with your case.”

He turns on his heel and leaves the kitchen.

Mako’s heart pounds in his own ears as he sinks back down into his chair.

At least he has the case to work on.

At least he’s done with this once Wu is officially the king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happening! 😬 Next chapter is the Book 1 finale.


	8. Book 1, Chapter 8

Wu doesn’t join him for breakfast the next day. He does eat the eggs that Mako made him once he’s awake and they’re cold, as he rushes to get out the door to get to his first in-person final. 

“How’d it go?” Mako asks when Wu walks out of the classroom a few hours later. They wouldn’t let Mako into the room itself, so he’d had to stand guard outside. 

Wu pauses in front of him, a strange expression on his face. His eyes are a little wide, his mouth twisted. “Uh. Fine, I think,” he says as he continues down the hall. 

“…okay.” Mako was kind of expecting more of an answer. Wu’s been talking nonstop about the damn papers for weeks now. 

He frowns at Wu’s back. “When’s the next one?”

Tension pulls Wu’s thin shoulders taut. After a long pause, he answers: “tomorrow, early.”

It’s the most Mako gets out of him that morning.

Wu falls into his bed when they get home, napping for at least two hours while Mako tries to focus on his cold case.

Eventually Wu gets up and trudges out to the living room, ordering room service and reading and re-reading the textbook for tomorrow’s exam.

Sitting in silence with Wu, working on their respective projects, would almost be nice if Wu wasn’t radiating enough nervous energy to power half the building, or muttering to himself about the answers to whatever test he’s taking tomorrow. Modern Civic Duty or something.

After the fourth time Wu flips a page, mutters something to himself, and then curses, Mako drops his pen. “Wu.”

“What,” Wu snaps, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

Mako stifles a sigh. “Give me the book.”

Wu looks back down at the book with a frown. “Why?”

“You’re not getting anywhere like that,” Mako says quietly. “I’ll quiz you. It’s based on that book, right? The test.”

“Yeah,” Wu is still frowning, but he holds out the book to Mako.

It’s a heavy thing, full of terms Mako doesn’t understand, but there’s a practice test at the end of the book. Mako had done this for him during his midterms, and it seems to make Wu feel better. He gets more animated as he answers Mako’s questions, leaning in closer and closer. They eat dinner together and Wu finally relaxes, leaning back in the couch.

“Okay. I think I’ve got this,” Wu sighs, slumping there, eyes falling shut.

“You do,” Mako says firmly. “You’re gonna be fine.” 

Wu bobs his head, that frown back on his face. 

He peeks at Mako after a long moment, then closes his eyes again.

Mako just wants to get those little frown lines off his face. “If not,” he says tentatively, “they’ll probably give you the degree anyway.”

Wu’s frown deepens. “So it doesn’t matter,” he says flatly.

“What? No. It still matters, but you don’t have to stress about it so much.” He can’t believe he’s saying that to Wu, of all people.

“Right,” Wu sighs and sinks deeper into the couch. Like he doesn’t believe Mako at all, or, more realistically, like Mako is terrible at making people feel better. 

“You’re gonna do fine,” Mako says one more time, and finally turns back to his case.

He hasn’t gotten any farther on it. There isn’t enough information and he doesn’t have the power to call up any of these witnesses, so all he can do is pour over the evidence again and again, trying to find a piece someone missed. He likes the work, but there’s only so much failure Mako can take.

Wu doesn’t talk to him again, not even when he gets up to go to bed.

Mako goes to sleep with the case facts and civics swirling into a mush in his head.

The next morning Wu is up almost when Mako is, with his mouth set in a thin, tense line. He barely eats the eggs Mako makes for them, which is more worrying than anything else.

Mako frowns at him over the table and stretches out his leg to nudge at Wu’s foot underneath it. “It’s not like you not to finish.”

Wu’s eyes flick to his, his expression drawn. He moves his foot away from Mako. “I’m not great at tests.”

Usually Wu is more than happy to lean into him, touches Mako constantly. Mako has no idea what’s changed. The stress of finals, maybe. 

He tugs his foot back under his chair and says, frowning harder, “Food will help.”

“I know,” Wu sighs, but he only nudges his eggs around his plate. “I’ll eat later.”

Frustration jolts sharply through Mako. “You’ll just get distracted if you’re hungry.” It’s a stupid thing to pick a fight about, but Wu is being stubborn for no reason, and it really won’t help him. Mako knows him by now. He’s whinier than Bolin when he’s hungry.

Wu’s face is pinched in a frown. “You’re not my mother.”

Mako bites down on a frustrated groan and shakes his head. “Obviously.”

He doesn’t get a reply. Wu sits there for another minute, shoulders hunched, frown in place, before he pushes back and grabs the book for today’s final and takes it to the couch.

His nose stays buried in it until it’s time to leave. Mako touches his shoulder when it’s time to go, to get his attention, and Wu stiffens under his hand. Something sharp pricks at Mako’s ribs, but he ignores it and shakes his head. They can deal with it after finals.

Except it gets worse.

It’s harder to talk to him. Wu doesn’t look at him directly, not in the eye. He acts like everything is normal, like before, but he makes a point not to touch Mako, and he doesn’t smile as much when they’re alone. Mako’s back in his own room, like he’d never been sleeping in Wu’s. One of his pillows is still on Wu’s bed, but he can’t get up the nerve to get it back.

After the third time Wu ignores the leftovers from breakfast, and orders room service for himself, Mako stops making him food.

He’s working on the damn cold case when Wu trudges out of his room on the morning of his last final. Mako hears the door, but doesn’t see Wu for a long minute. Then Wu is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his eyes on Mako.

“You okay?” Mako asks dryly. It’s obvious that Wu is not. He’s pale, and there are bags under his eyes, which Mako has never seen before. He probably doesn’t even know. That seems like the kind of thing he would freak out about for some reason.

Mako isn’t okay either, really, but he’s thinking about work instead of his own ridiculous life. He’s kind of sick of himself.

“Nervous,” Wu says quietly, fingers curling in a fist.

“You’ve done well on the other ones.” Mako presses the file shut. “Just don’t forget that one battle.” 

“Right. The battle of the little mountain,” Wu wrinkles his nose. “Right?”

Mako flashes him a small, tentative smile. “Yeah. Exactly. You have this.”

Wu nods and his eyes drop to the table. “No breakfast?”

Mako’s stomach tightens. “I ate already,” but he should have remembered that Wu would be up early today. He forgot, with how weird and tense things have been. 

Pushing his case aside, he stands and heads for their icebox. “How hungry are you?”

“I’ll just eat toast,” Wu says, pulling the bread out of the pantry.

Wu has never ‘just eaten toast’ in his life. He devours food like it’s his job, and Mako distinctly remembers one long rant about how he didn’t understand people who wouldn’t even bother to dress up their bread.

“…sure,” Mako says, and closes the door. “Okay.”

Wu knows how to make his own toast, at least. He’s done it enough times when helping Mako with breakfast.

He puts the bread in the toaster and just stands there, hands on the counter.

“You are nervous.” Mako shifts to stand over him, nudging against Wu with his hip to get him out of the way. At the very least Mako can finish the toast for him. 

“Mako,” Wu lets himself be moved just a few inches. “Don’t.”

Mako frowns, his hand coming up to rest at Wu’s hip. “Don’t what?”

Wu goes stiff under his hand. “I can make my own toast.”

Mako frowns, lets his hand drop, and steps back. “Yeah. You can.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Wu won’t meet his eyes. His toast pops up, and he grabs it before Mako can do anything. He slaps both slices with butter in silence, but doesn’t even sit down.

“Why are you still here?” Wu finally asks, and it doesn’t sound as cruel as those words could be.

Although Mako has no idea what he’s talking about. 

“Am I not supposed to be?”

Wu shrugs a shoulder. “I dunno. I thought,” he shakes his head with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Wu—” Mako starts, and then he’s saying, before he can stop himself, “I have to be here. It’s my job.”

“Right,” Wu’s voice is hard. “Of course. I’m your job. That you hate.”

“I don’t hate it,” Mako frowns.

“Sure you don’t,” Wu narrows his eyes. “You just wish you were out saving the world instead of being stuck babysitting me.”

Mako hadn’t meant to say it like that, exactly.

“But I’m here,” he says, watching Wu’s face. “There’s nothing I can do right now.”

Wu’s face twists between something like anger and something like pain. “Because you have to be.”

“It’s my job to be!” Mako snaps, throwing up his hands. Wu isn’t getting it, clearly.

“Right,” Wu deflates. “Yeah. I know. Look, Mako,” he sucks in a breath, glancing up at him, “I feel like things got out of hand. With us. You and me.”

Mako frowns at him, watching Wu’s eyes flick to his and then skitter away. His mouth twists, opens, and shuts. “What did?”

“Our,” Wu starts, then bites his lip, “relationship.”

Mako’s breath freezes.

 _Are you breaking up with me?_ Korra had asked, and Mako had known that he was because they didn’t work. Mako wasn’t what Korra needed then, and apparently he isn’t what she needs now, even as a friend. 

No one needs him, really. Except Wu. And now Wu doesn’t need him to be anything except his bodyguard, the thing Mako should have been doing this entire time: his job.

He meets Wu’s eyes. They’re blank and very green. For once he has no idea what Wu is thinking. But it makes sense. Wu’s going to be the king. Mako doesn’t factor into that, and should never have factored into it. He wants to go back to being a detective and doing something useful with his time.

“Right,” he says, and the words come out harsh and sharp, full of breath and anger and some other thing stabbing sharp into his lungs. “It was a bad idea in the first place.”

“Right,” Wu agrees, and he opens his mouth to say something, then shuts his mouth with a nod.

He watches Mako for a long minute, then says, quietly, “it was fun.”

Mako’s throat is so tight. It’s hard to get the words out, but he grits his teeth and shoves it down and says, as professionally as he can, “Yeah. It was. Do you—” he cuts himself off, and rips his eyes away from Wu’s. “I’m going to work out. Come get me when it’s time to leave.”

He doesn’t wait for Wu to answer.

It feels like a retreat, but Mako has to do something with the feeling burning up under his skin. He yanks his shirt off and tosses it into a corner, moving into a fast-paced sequence as soon as his feet hit the mats. He’s as careful as he can be, banking the flames almost as soon as they’re burning, but the punching bag ends up scorched all the same.

They’ve never even applied a word like _relationship_ to whatever they were doing. Mako hadn’t thought about it. Had tried not to think about it, really, because it was a lot easier than trying to ask Wu about shifting boundaries and whether or not they were still treating this casually.

He really shouldn’t have ignored it for this long. 

He shouldn’t’ve gotten into this in the first place. Mako bites down on a rough sound as he whirls, fire spinning around him white-hot. He douses the flames just before they hit the wall, relishing his own control over them. Thinking about his firebending, about his actual, real skills, is a lot easier than thinking about Wu.

Mako throws himself into it as hard as he can, his muscles burning. The air is hot enough to evaporate the sweat straight off him. He moves until he isn’t thinking or feeling anything else.

He comes back to himself only when he can’t lift himself off the mats anymore. His heart is hammering and his breath is short and his mind is a pleasantly blank haze.

That evaporates as soon as he looks at the clock.

It’s twelve forty-five. Wu’s exam is at one.

He bites down on a curse and hurries out of the little gym, dripping with sweat. They’ll have to run if they want to get there on time. Sending a quick burst of heat along his body to dry off, Mako grabs his crumpled uniform jacket and pulls it back on. 

“Wu, we gotta go—” he starts, and then stops, frowning.

The lights are still on, but Wu’s not in the living room, and neither is his bookbag.

Frowning, Mako goes and pokes his head into Wu’s room, but he’s not there, either. Mako checks every room with his heart in his throat, his stomach tightening with every empty room, and then toes his shoes on and goes to check if Wu’s Satomobile is in the lot under the hotel.

It’s not. The dedicated space, right next to the door, is empty.

“What the fuck,” Mako says aloud into the echoing space. “You just _left_?”

His voice echoes back at him, distorted.

Wu had better be at his exam.

Mako grabs the first person who works for the hotel he sees, one of the butlers who Wu’s managed to befriend, and gets him to call a cab. “Put in on the room,” he snaps. He’ll feel bad about it later. It’s Wu’s own damn fault that he ran off without a bodyguard. He can pay for Mako to find him.

The cab takes forever both to appear and then to get to the university building. Mako is on-edge the whole time, running through scenarios in his head, trying his best not to think about Wu’s words that morning and also not to think about him getting kidnapped. He’s never been in danger before. There’s no reason to think that anything will happen now.

“Just let me off here,” he says as soon as they’re within sight of the massive building. He’s out of the car before the driver can say anything about it.

For the first time, he’s very, very glad he went to class with Wu this whole semester. He knows exactly where Wu should be, had better be, or Mako will—he’s not thinking about it.

The hallway full of classrooms is deserted, his steps echoing off tile and polished stone. Mako hardly breathes as he tugs open the last door.

“Excuse me,” the professor says, sounding affronted. Mako ignores her, scanning the room and a few startled faces for Wu. 

There. He’s exactly where he should be, sitting near the front on the left. He glances up a second later, eyes flicking to Mako. They go wide, and then Wu scowls and looks back at his exam.

“Thanks,” Mako murmurs to Wu’s professor, and lets the door fall shut.

Now he just has to stand here and wait.

It seems like forever.

As soon as Wu walks out of the damn exam room, Mako curls a hand around his arm and yanks him into a hallway.

Wu stumbles after him. “Mako,” he snaps, then he tries to pull away from him, “get off of me!”

“You left,” Mako hisses, and pulls him a little closer. “Without your bodyguard. Did you even think about how dangerous that would be?”

They’re very close together. Wu’s breath catches, staring at Mako with a vulnerable expression that Mako hasn’t seen in far too long.

It doesn’t stay for long. Wu’s face shutters and he slips out of Mako’s grip. “I was going to miss my exam.”

“That’s why I told you to come get me,” Mako says, speeding up his step as Wu starts to walk away. “Wu, you can’t just—what were you thinking?”

“I’m not in danger,” Wu snaps, twisting back to him. “I’ve never been in danger. I don’t need you following me everywhere I go!”

“Then you shouldn’t have hired a bodyguard,” Mako’s trying to keep his voice down, keep attention away from them, but it’s tough when Wu is being so obtuse and frustrating and cavalier about his own damn safety and essentially, correctly, telling Mako exactly how useless he is. And has been this entire time. “You brought me here, remember?”

“Maybe I don’t need you anymore,” Wu hisses, stepping back toward Mako. His eyes are fierce and bright. Some of the other students are staring at them, and Mako’s ribs are squeezing into his lungs. He sucks in a sharp, shaky breath, trying to calm himself down. The air around him is hot, and that’s never good.

“Maybe not,” he finally bites out. The words are like knives on his tongue. “But I’m here.”

Wu lets out a derisive breath. “Because you have to be.”

Something bleeds out of Mako all at once. Anger, maybe, or will to argue. “Yes. Because you hired me.”

He pulls himself up to his full height, looking at Mako with that expression he hates: haughty and privileged and like he’s better than whoever he’s looking at. Mako, now. “You can quit.”

That look doesn’t suit him at all. 

Mako averts his eyes. 

“I’m not quitting.” He says, as dully as he can manage. It doesn’t work that well. He still kind of wants to shake Wu and get his face back to normal, but Mako can’t do that. Wu’s classmates are looking at them. Mako’s skin crawls under his hastily-thrown-on uniform jacket. 

Wu doesn’t answer him. He stares at Mako for a long moment before he turns on his heel and heads toward a group of students who were in his class, clustered outside the door of the classroom and chattering in low voices. Mako recognizes some of them. Half of them look up when Wu gets close, their eyes wide. He invites all of them—loudly—to go to a club with him to celebrate, and Mako cringes inside.

Wu turns back to him, eyes skating over his body in a way that makes Mako feel exposed. He meets Mako’s eyes, pauses, and says, “You need to change.”

Mako feels stuck. He shifts, tugs his jacket down a little bit, and asks, shortly, “Why?”

“They won’t let you in,” Wu says, and turns on his heel.

One of the guys Wu invited out waves to him. “See you at seven!”

Wu flashes him a wide, toothy grin. Mako recognizes that smile. It’s the kind of smile he used to wear before. Before-before, before whatever it was they had started. The kind that are too wide, his laugh is too loud. 

Apparently that Wu is back. The spoiled prince that Mako thought he’d left behind, the one who gets everything he wants and treats everyone like they’re beneath him, not the one who smiles softly over the rim of his coffee mug in the morning and gets excited about successfully cooking buns.

Not the one who curls into Mako’s bed at night and pushes quiet kisses all over his skin, and teases Mako about the ticklish spots that make him squirm.

Mako follows him back out to the Satomobile with a storm brewing in his lungs.

The ride home is, once again, full of stony silence. Mako tries to tell him again what a stupid move it was to leave him behind, but Wu ignores him, and then disappears into his room as soon as they’re back. 

Mako goes to finally shower off his sweat-sticky skin, enjoying in a strange way the scald of the water.

Then Mako’s shower turns cold all at once. He yelps and shoves himself out of it, heating up the air around him to dry off. Wu must have gotten into the other shower.

Scowling, he puts on a freshly-pressed uniform and debates for a full ten minutes whether or not to slick back his hair. Wu told him to do it in the first place, and now Mako feels strange without it. 

But part of him wants to test Wu’s assertion that they won’t let him in.

In the end, Mako slicks it back in a few quick motions and goes to work on his case until Wu is ready.

He doesn’t get anything done. 

They end up at a club they haven’t been to in months. Not since before Ember Island, Mako realizes. 

Wu breaks off from Mako immediately, walking over to the group of his classmates who are already there. They cheer when they see him, all too excited to be seen around the Crown Prince of the Earth Kingdom. 

The soon-to-be-King, rather.

Wu clearly doesn’t want him around and Mako has nothing to say to these people. He sits at the bar in the corner and orders a water for himself, keeping an eye on Wu as he chats with these new friends of his, who all stand a little too close and laugh a little too loud.

Wu’s own laughter is obnoxious, grating Mako’s ears. He doesn’t look happy: there’s a pinched set to his mouth that shows when he forgets to smile, and he looks a little lost when the conversation moves on without him. Like he doesn’t know what to say, or how to break in. Mako tracks the tension in his shoulders, watching them rise higher and higher. 

People keep pressing drinks into Wu’s hands with smiles that they clearly don’t mean, and Mako resists the urge to go take them, warn him about what an idiot he’s being. He has no idea how dangerous that is. Wu seems delighted by the attention. By the group.

He doesn’t look at Mako once.

Wu should have friends, though. He’s spent all this time just with Mako, and Mako hates most of the things Wu likes: parties and dancing and plays and shopping. It doesn’t make sense, on paper. They don’t make sense together.

When Mako focuses on him again, Wu is leaning close to some girl Mako vaguely recognizes from one of his classes. She leans in to whisper something in his ear that makes them both dissolve into laughter. The tension in Wu’s shoulders eases slightly.

Mako curls his fingers hard into the glass in his hand.

Wu breaks from the group, a vague smile on his face. After a moment Mako realizes Wu’s heading straight toward him. Maybe he’s finally ready to leave. The music has gotten louder and shriekier after a new band took over, and it’s giving Mako the beginnings of a headache.

He frowns as Wu dodges around someone and then presses himself against the bar next to the stool Mako claimed. 

“I want two Earth Fizzes,” Wu says. The bartender is all the way at the other end of the bar. It takes Mako a second to get that Wu is talking to him.

“…okay.” The tiny bit of relief that had seeped into him dies.

Wu stands there expectantly.

Oh.

He wants Mako to—what, order the drinks for him? Like he used to, way back when Mako first started and Wu seemed to think that Mako was some kind of glorified firebending butler. 

Mako bites down on a scowl, schools his face into something neutral. “Get them yourself.”

Wu’s eyes narrow. He stares for a moment longer, then turns away from Mako, waving a hand at the bartender. “Fine,” he mutters, barely loud enough for Mako to hear it.

Mako can feel the muscles in his jaw jumping, but he grits his teeth against the words crowding up behind them. Music pounds against the sides of his skull. Whoever is playing the erhu is doing a terrible job of it.

Wu gets his two drinks and puts them on the tab he apparently opened, thanking the bartender loudly with a flash of a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. His eyes only flick to Mako for a second before he’s sauntering back to his new friends. The girl laughs and takes one of the drinks, pressing herself close to Wu’s side.

Soon, Mako tells himself. Soon Wu will get bored, and then they can get out of here.

Except instead, Wu downs his drink in record time and drags the laughing girl out into the throngs of dancers, forcing Mako to vacate his stool just to keep eyes on him.

She seems intent on getting Wu to take her home, touching his hair, his waist, his hips. Wu is laughing, lapping up the attention. Mako wants to look away except it’s his literal job to keep an eye on Wu, so he burns a hole in the back of the girl’s head, instead, to make sure she doesn’t try anything. 

Wu catches his eye again, once, even across the tangle of bodies. His grin slips and he holds Mako’s gaze for too long. He looks lost and lonely, despite the girl dancing against him. Her hands slide down Wu’s ribs.

Mako scowls and tears his eyes away.

The night drags on and on, but it’s only around midnight when Wu comes over to Mako again, staggering a little. He’s alone. Mako isn’t sure where his friends got to. 

Wu’s hand clamps down on Mako’s shoulder. Mako glances at him. He mumbles, “wanna go home,” without meeting Mako’s eyes.

“Finally,” Mako mutters, and tugs him sideways, away from a group of drunk guys who burst into loud laughter. Wu stumbles after him, pulling his arm out of Mako’s grip.

“I can walk!” He snaps, straightening out his jacket. Outside the night air is still hot from being baked in the summer sun, thick with laughter and humidity and the smell of smoke. Music spills out onto the street after them.

“Barely,” Mako retorts. He lets Wu sway forward a few paces, his jaw set and his eyes locked straight ahead of him.

Then he almost walks into a streetlamp on the way to the Satomobile. Mako tugs him sideways again without even thinking.

Wu doesn’t thank him. He doesn’t say anything, just dropping into his usual seat in the Satomobile, head falling to the seat back.

Usually he’s all over Mako when he’s drunk. Even before they were—doing whatever they were doing, Wu would flop against him, his arms everywhere, and recount to Mako in excruciating detail the highlights of the night, which were usually all the funny things he’d said and how much people liked them.

Tonight, he’s silent, his face tilted away. Mako watches yellow light flash over his face in painful silence.

It doesn’t even seem to make his head feel better.

As soon as they get back to the suite, Wu mumbles something incoherent and disappears into his room.

Mako heads for the bathroom, glad to finally be alone.

The echoes of music and dancing pound in his head, making his ears ring. It’s a little too warm in here, and Mako’s reflection in the mirror shows him exactly how hard he’s clenching his jaw. Bags shadow his eyes. He splashes water on his face. 

Mako has no idea what to do.

He has no idea what he wants to do.

He’s been such an idiot about this whole thing, letting himself be dragged into _something,_ with Wu, and never talking about it.

But Wu is going to be the Earth King in three weeks, and whatever it was they had is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why'd you have to go and make things so complicated


	9. Book 2, Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place before and during season 4, episode 1

“Oh, uh, no,” Wu says into the recorder that’s pressed far too close to his face. “No plans yet for tax reforms! Need to get that old crown on first.”

“Do you have any plans at all for the Earth Kingdom? Do you agree with everything Kuvira is doing?” The reporter presses, her eyes narrowed intently. Wu only managed to get a few steps down the stairs outside City Hall before getting swarmed, and Mako’s never heard a more appropriate word in his life for what’s happening right now.

“I don’t agree with anyone about everything,” Wu laughs weakly, “and yes, there are plans. Plans in the works. Working on those plans!”

“Give us more details about those plans,” another reporter presses, and then there’s a second recorder pressed up against Wu’s face from the left.

The last few weeks have been awful.

Some of the worst, in fact, since before he and Bolin got their first real apartment.

Mako’s not on the street and he’s not hungry, but he’s alone. Even though he’s around Wu every day, all day. Wu’s started talking to him again, but it’s more like talking at him: Mako is absolutely sure he isn’t expected to respond. Wu doesn’t leave the space for it.

His hand twitches, but he curls it even tighter in his own palm, trying to look as neutral as humanly possible. 

Before Wu even gets a chance to answer, another recorder has been shoved into his face. “Some people say Kuvira has no intention of stepping down. If that happens will you take the throne by force?”

Wu laughs, strained and loud, “By force! That won’t be necessary. Kuvira and I have an understanding.” That’s a damn lie, and Mako knows it. Wu has never even met Kuvira, let alone negotiated with her. 

“So you’ve talked to her,” another reporter says, and that sets off a flurry of questions about Wu’s plans for the ascension and whether Kuvira will be one of his advisors and how soon he plans to return to Ba Sing Se. They’re coming too fast and thick for him to actually answer. Wu looks like a cat-deer in headlights, his green eyes wide and his smile frozen on his face.

“Uh,” Wu stares at the swarm, his arms stiff at his sides. “I– I don’t, no more questions!” He snaps, but the reporters either don’t hear him or don’t care. One of them actually shoves their recorder almost into Wu’s mouth with some ridiculous question about whether or not Wu’s going to marry Kuvira to keep his family going, and Wu makes a tiny distressed noise, shrinking back until he’s almost pressed against Mako.

Mako grits his teeth, drops a hand on Wu’s shoulder, and shoves the reporter away with the other.

“Enough,” he snaps. The reporter makes an affronted sound and starts protesting as Mako moves in front of Wu, glaring around at the mass of camera lenses and recorders and blank-eyed face. “He’s not answering any more questions.”

Silence falls.

For a second, Mako thinks they got the point, but then they all erupt into questions at once.

Barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Mako grabs Wu’s upper arm and hauls him down the steps, shoving reporters aside until they break free. Luckily, Wu’s driver is punctual as ever, and has the door open and ready for Mako to push Wu inside and then slam it behind them both.

He pinches the bridge of his nose as the engine starts up, ignoring the pounding in his own head. Mako has had a headache almost every day for the last two weeks. Too many photo opportunities and restaurant openings, too much gritting of his own teeth to keep himself from saying any of the things he wants to say. They don’t have that kind of relationship anymore. They never should have had it in the first place.

Wu slumps in his seat, not talking to Mako, not talking at all. He stares down at his hands, hair falling in his face.

“You shouldn’t give them anything,” Mako says after a moment. 

Wu’s eyes flick up to him. He doesn’t answer for a long moment, his brows furrowing. “Kinda part of the job.”

“Not necessarily. The more you talk, the more questions they’ll have.” Eventually Korra just learned to ignore them. As far as Mako can tell, that’s the best way to handle anyone prying into personal business like it’s their right to tell the world about all of it. How Wu is so good one-on-one, at talking at those swanky parties, but so terrible with the same questions in front of a crowd, Mako will never know.

Even if he doesn’t blame Wu, exactly. 

“What do you know,” Wu mutters, leaning on the car door. 

He’s been like this recently. Sudden, surly, ignoring Mako when they’re alone, and, really, when they’re anywhere.

And Mako knows a lot about it, but Wu doesn’t want to hear it and Mako doesn’t really want to talk about it if he’s just going to be dismissed again. Ignoring the twinge in his chest, Mako hunches into his seat and resolutely doesn’t look at Wu for the rest of the ride home.

Of course, Wu disappears as soon as they’re home, mumbling something about destressing. Mako doesn’t ask.

He tries to work on his case, but Mako can’t make himself focus on anything. Wu’s coronation is less than two weeks from now and Mako knows nothing about it. He’s gone radio silent, and whenever Mako tries to bring it up Wu just waves a hand and tells him “people are handling it,” which tells Mako nothing at all. Including what happens after that.

The most he knows is that it is offically happening in Republic City, the date, and the fact that Kuvira is going to be there for some kind of ceremonial handover of power. 

Which can’t be anything but a disaster. Mako’s stayed quiet on that front, too. It’s not worth the fight. Mako’s family isn’t in the Earth Kingdom anymore, Mako lives in the United Republic, and it’ll be Wu’s problem to deal with.

And Bolin’s, but Mako can’t deal with that right now, either.

Annoyed at himself, Mako snaps the case shut and stands to make some food for himself. Maybe with some actual food in him, not just the little cakes Raiko had offered Wu and not Mako, will help him concentrate. Mako just wants to think about anything else. He’s sick of the amount of space Wu takes up in his own head.

Mako’s never been the most extravagant cook in the world—when would he have the time, except now—but they have a ton of flour that Wu hasn’t touched in weeks and odds and ends filling up the icebox. 

He makes dumplings and tries not to think about the first time he’d tried, just him and Bolin in the sparse apartment above the arena with the lights shining in through the windows. Bolin was too strong for the delicate work of folding and wrapping them, even following the instructions in an old book Mako had found. He’d broken at least ten dumplings and they’d laughed harder at every one that burst onto the floor or Bolin’s own lap.

If Kuvira is coming in for the coronation, Mako might actually get to see him. He’s in too many places to try and write letters. At the beginning of his time with Kuvira, Mako had gotten postcards from all over the Earth Kingdom, but that had petered out pretty fast.

Now that Mako thinks about it, it’s been more than a year since he saw Bolin.

Or any of his friends.

Shoving that thought away, Mako focuses on the little folds under his fingers, on the details of the case, the steam rising up from water Mako doesn’t bother to heat on the stove. By the time he’s finished, the sun has set and darkness has fallen over the suite. Mako never turned on the lights.

Wu is nowhere to be seen.

Mako flicks on the kitchen lights. They hum discordantly overhead as he eats at the kitchen table, his plate beside the case file.

The next day, he calls Beifong.

“It’s done,” he says when she finally picks up. “The case. I’m sending it back with my notes.” There’s nothing else he can do at this point—Mako isn’t an acting detective—but hopefully it helps.

Beifong grunts and mutters, “sure. Thanks, kid.” Gruff and short, like she always is. In a way, Mako is glad for the consistency. He frowns blankly down at the cord in his hand.

“Do you,” he starts, before he can think better of it, “know anything about the coronation? Kuvira’s coming in for it, isn’t she?”

“It’s gonna be a shitshow, probably,” Beifong says bluntly, “but Korra’s supposed to be there too. Maybe having the Avatar around will actually do something.”

Mako’s heart leaps. “Korra’s coming back? When?”

“She’s supposed to be on Tonraq’s ship, and they’re coming about,” Mako hears some papers rustling, “three days before—look, kid, I don’t know, ask Tenzin. I’m just security. You’ll be there with the Prince, right? He should have the schedule.”

“Yeah,” Mako says quietly. He glances up in the direction of Wu’s silent room. He hasn’t emerged yet, but it’s only 10 in the morning. He probably isn’t even awake. “Uh. I’ll ask. What happens after that? I mean.” His throat tightens. “I’m done, right?” 

“I don’t know, so don’t ask,” Beifong groans. “Raiko’s being cagey. I’ll push him and see what I can do. You’ll be free soon.”

Mako swallows. “Right. Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Chief.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Beifong says, and hangs up, leaving Mako alone with his pounding heart.

* * *

The days pass in a kind of haze. Mako’s life seems to be in stasis, just watching as Wu’s coronation ticks closer and closer. He can’t really think about the future, and he can’t help but think about Wu, who is always there, just a step in front of him, but who won’t look at him, not like he used to.

At least there’s the bright spot of the opening of the new train station that Asami built. Tenzin and his family show up, and Mako takes a second to go say hi to them while Wu makes faces at the cameras. That part, at least, he’s good at.

Pabu is curled up contentedly on Ikki’s shoulder. He’s been at Air Temple Island this whole time, getting fatter, it looks like. Mako drags a hand over his fur with a soft frown.

“Bo’s gonna make you exercise when he gets back,” he murmurs, and Pabu snorts at him, a cute little huffing sound that makes Mako laugh.

“Pabu can exercise if Pabu wants to,” Ikki sniffs, turning up her nose at him.

“That’s the problem,” Mako says dryly. “He never wants to. You have to make him.”

Ikki gasps, hiding Pabu’s eyes. Pabu peeks up over her fingers. “I won’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do!”

Mako shakes his head and curls his fingers under Pabu’s soft ears. “You’re worse than Bo,” he mumbles, and ignores Ikki’s affronted gasp.

Scattered clapping distracts him. The ceremony must be starting, which means Mako has to go stand next to Wu and look intimidating.

Wu, who shifts too quickly when Mako looks at him, eyes resolutely ahead, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He looks every inch the spoiled prince that he’s been playing for the last month.

Asami, on the other hand, looks proud and professional and very polished up there. A little more tired than Mako remembers, but she should be proud of all this.

Mako wants to congratulate her, maybe catch up with what she’s been doing the last few months, but Wu sweeps in before Mako can even get close and flirts with her.

With Asami, who Mako respects more than almost anyone else in his life except maybe Korra and Beifong. He holds himself back, gritting his teeth and letting it happen, until Wu actually asks her out. 

Mako has to step in before Asami shocks him or something. She probably has her glove on all the time, now, and he kind of wouldn’t blame her, right now. Wu is doing that thing where he just talks and doesn’t stop, words falling out of his mouth that he’s only half aware of.

“Prince Wu,” the title sticks in his throat, “President Raiko has some really important—king stuff to talk to you about,” he says, eyes darting to Asami. She grimaces.

“Now?” Wu groans and throws up a hand. “Fine. Think over the offer, I'll be back.” Wu actually blows her a kiss and Mako wants to punch him or shake him or something, anything. 

Asami is looking at him expectantly, her brows raised. Wu had wanted him to bring her over.

So much for that. Mako meets Asami’s eyes and shoves down the confusing tangle of his own emotions. He’s here for Asami. He should be focusing on her, and her accomplishments, not on his own issues. “He’s a real charmer, huh?”

“He’s” Asami frowns, her eyes narrowing, “something. How can you stand being his bodyguard?”

It wasn’t so bad, for a while, Mako wants to tell her, but she’s still frowning, watching him. He can’t. It’s too much to explain. “Well,” he starts, “I just remind myself that once he's on the throne, I go back to being a detective.

“And that works?” Asami’s lips flicker in a smile, which means Mako’s poor attempt at being lighthearted about it is working. 

“I also go home and smash my head into the wall for an hour. You know, just to get the stress out.” It’s closer to the truth than he wishes it was. Mako’s spent more time in the hotel’s fancy gym than he has since he started living there, and the punching bags are starting to show it.

But she laughs at that, and Mako smiles a bit. Focus. “It's good to see you, Mako. It's been too long. You hear from Bolin lately?”

“I haven't talked to him for a while, but he's coming in a few days for the coronation.” With Kuvira, but that’s a whole other thing that Mako also isn’t thinking about right now. “And Beifong told me that Korra is getting in tonight.”

Asami’s face does a strange thing where she smiles and somehow manages to look nervous all at once. Her cheeks are even a little pink.

“I can't wait to see her,” she says softly, and Mako nods. “It's gonna be weird having the old Team Avatar back in the city after all these years.”

Mako hadn’t even thought about that.

He’s been so caught up in this thing with Wu that he didn’t notice: Bolin coming back, and Korra coming in, finally, means they’ll all be together again. 

It’s hitting Mako again how long they’ve been apart. How much things have changed, and how few words he has to describe the last two years of his life. He can’t even tell Asami how weird Wu is being, how she’d probably have liked him, before, but now he’s insisting on doing whatever it is he’s doing with the flirting and the parties. 

This wasn’t how Mako had imagined Wu meeting his friends. 

Asami is giving him a weird look. Mako meets her eyes for a second, his lips parting silently. Asami’s brows rise, just slightly. She looks concerned.

Mako glances away, up to the stop of the steps, where Wu is shrinking in front of Raiko and Tenzin and Beifong.

“I should—go make sure he’s okay,” he says quickly, and hurries over there before Asami can ask the question clear on her face.

“Well, the roving bandits have mostly been dispersed,” Tenzin is saying with a sheepish look on his face.

“Mostly?” Wu’s eyes are wide.

“Don't worry kid. The chances of you being assassinated are almost zero,” Beifong tells him with a perfectly straight face, and it almost makes Mako laugh. She hasn’t changed a bit.

Wu doesn’t know her as well as Mako does. His brows shoot up. He looks horrified. “Almost?” His voice is very nearly a squeak.

Mako wants to reach out and press the tension out of his shoulders.

He curls his hands into fists, instead, standing stiff next to Wu. Beifong’s eyes flick over to him, her face twisting in an expression Mako has no idea how to read. 

Wu glances back at him, eyes wide, “Mako won’t let that happen. Right, Mako?”

Mako barely keeps his own expression neutral. “That’s what bodyguards are for.”

“That’s the truth,” Wu cuffs his arm with a weak smile.

Three more days, Mako tells himself.

At least Wu doesn’t talk on the way home. He looks exhausted, leaning on his hand and staring out the window. He ignores Mako entirely.

If Wu is going to be like this, then let him. It isn’t Mako’s job to pull him out of it. Not anymore. Wu made that very clear.

Wu disappears immediately, again, into his room, which is fine by Mako. He retreats to the kitchenette to try and read the book he started and maybe actually bang his head against something hard.

“I need a haircut,” Wu announces when he reappears, tossing his scarf around his throat.

Mako jerks, accidentally snapping his book shut. He glares down at the cover. “Now?”

“Yes,” Wu marches up to him, leaning a hand on the table. “Can’t have a too-fresh cut for the coronation. It won’t look right.”

“…right.” Mako sighs and drops the book. “Okay. Fine. Let’s go.”

“Don’t look so down, buddy,” Wu’s lips quirk. “You could get a haircut too. You kind of need one.”

“My hair is fine,” Mako snaps before he can stop himself. His jaw is tight. He tries to make himself relax but it doesn’t quite work.

Wu just flashes him a too-wide smile. With a sigh, Mako goes to put on his shoes.

Wu grabs his stupid cane thing and one of the hats he loves so much off the rack by the door and tosses it onto his head as they leave. Mako, as usual, locks the door behind them. Not once has Wu bothered to do it. He probably doesn’t even know there’s a key.

“I don't know why we're leaving so early if you're just getting a haircut. The dinner at Air Temple Island isn't until later tonight,” Mako says as Wu does some ridiculous twirling thing with his cane.

“Because I'm not just getting a haircut, it's a spa day. We're talking minimum four hours.”

“Are you kidding me?” He shoves a finger against the elevator button, watching Wu incredulously. He looks completely unconcerned. Casual, even, leaning on his cane and grinning widely. “What are you having done that takes four hours?”

Wu aims another wide grin at him. This one doesn’t reach his eyes, either. “A rejuvenating tea leaf skin wrap. Have you ever gotten one of those, Mako?”

The elevator door slides open, and Mako scowls at him. Wu knows damn good and well that Mako hasn’t. “Yeah, I’m not interested.”

Wu shoots him a completely unreadable look. “Oh, you will be.”

He does this, when he’s nervous, Mako thinks. He finds silence unnerving unless it’s early in the morning. He’d gotten better around Mako over the last few years, but the last few days he’s been running his mouth almost constantly. Mako has a low-grade headache, again, and he’s not even listening to half of the wild things Wu is describing. 

It’s a far cry from Wu pressing into his space in this same elevator, his green eyes dark with promise.

Mako shakes that thought away. He’s not even going to be here much longer. Once Wu is back on the throne, Mako will have to find an apartment or something. Maybe a sturdy one.

“—gobble them right up. Crazy, huh?” 

Mako wrinkles his nose, following Wu out of the elevator. “That’s disgusting,” he mutters, and stops.

A whole crowd is waiting for them out front.

On both sides of the walkway, penned back, with cameras flashing. This has been happening more lately, especially near City Hall with the fervor over Kuvira coming to Republic City, but never just in front of the hotel like this. Wu’s lived here for years. Why this, now? Alarm sparks along Mako’s skin.

Wu doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Mako, look at all my fans,” he sounds delighted. Mako glances around at the crowd, frowning. “They must be in town for my coronation.”

“Uh,” A few people move furtively closer as Wu flings himself into the crowd. “I don't know if all those people are your fans.”

Wu is ignoring him. Again. He’s got his arms hooked around the necks of two women who look like they’re about to faint, doesn’t even notice the dark looks on some of the faces around them.

“Wu, we have to get you out of here,” Mako says, walking towards him

Someone moves closer, their arm going to their side, and Mako doesn’t even think. He yanks Wu out of the crowd, toward the waiting Satomobile. 

“Go!” Mako shouts. 

Something hits Wu. Mako picks him up bodily, hefting Wu in his arms.

It’s the most they’ve touched in three weeks. Mako shoves him into the open door of the car as Wu groans like he’s been shot, gets in after him, his heart racing. When he looks at Wu, he realizes that it was just a stupid pie.

But it’s like a dam broke: Wu is all over him, being overdramatic on the floor of the Satomobile, a hand on his shoulder, an elbow on his knee. Like he wants Mako again, like it’s a month ago and they could stand each other and had something that Mako still doesn’t understand.

“You’re allergic to bee stings,” Mako snaps when Wu swoons ridiculously.

“Oh, right.” Wu leans on his knee, and Mako swallows. “I always get those two mixed up.”

“Sure,” Mako bites out. He’s too aware of every single point of contact between them: the world narrowed down to those points, like when he had his lips wrapped around Wu’s cock except explicitly not that because that’s done and Mako can’t be thinking about it. Adrenaline, unused, is slowly leaking out of his limbs, making his fingers tingle. For a second there, he’d thought Wu was really in danger, and Mako’s heart had stopped. If it had been more than pie—

He swallows, and pushes at Wu’s shoulder. 

Wu glances up at him, brows furrowing. “I’m in a crisis here. Give a guy a minute.”

“Again,” Mako says through his teeth, “you’re fine.” Mako’s being unfair about it but he doesn’t feel like being fair, right now. He feels like setting things on fire. Has felt like that for weeks.

Wu’s eyes narrow. “Fine,” he says, pushing himself up and dropping into the seat next to Mako. “But it could have been more than pie, and then you wouldn’t be laughing.”

“No. I wouldn’t have been. Talking about what-ifs is pointless.” Mako snaps, and then immediately lets his head fall back against the seat with a groan. He’s still too aware of Wu’s body heat, the tiny touch of his thigh against Mako’s as he shifts to face the window. 

Three more days, Mako tells himself for the hundredth time. It’s the only thing keeping him going. Three more days, and then he’s done, and he can say he didn’t quit, and he can leave behind this entire disastrous thing with Wu and move on with his life, and eventually that thought will stop hurting as much as it does.

* * *

His vague hope withers at Korra’s welcome dinner that night.

“Ugh. This coronation cannot some soon enough,” he tells Beifong in a voice a little rougher than he means to, half-paying-attention to Wu chatting up Raiko’s wife of all people across the dining room. “I can’t wait to go back to being a detective.” It’ll be good for him, if nothing else, to throw himself back into work. Mako’s always been good at getting over things when he has something else to focus on. 

“Right,” Beifong’s voice is tentative. Mako turns to her, alarmed. “Um, yeah, about that.”

“What,” Mako says slowly. He’s never seen Beifong look quite this nervous.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” she rubs at her neck, “you’re going to Ba Sing Se with the prince.”

Mako’s stomach drops. 

Wu’s still laughing with Raiko and his wife, looking like he’s exactly where he wants to be. He isn’t looking at Mako at all, hasn’t all night.

He said things had gotten out of hand, like he didn’t take Mako on vacation with him on his birthday, like Mako wasn’t sleeping in his bed. Maybe this was the plan all along, and Wu just forgot to tell him. Maybe he just decided. Both options are terrible: either Wu was always going to take Mako with him, and just assumed that would be fine, or Wu wasn’t planning on taking him with before and is now, now that whatever they had is over. 

Mako’s world tilts slightly. 

He grabs at Beifong’s shoulders. “No.” Her face twists, and Mako’s stomach disappears entirely. He loosens his grip when she winces.

“I tried to get you out of it, but it's over my head,” Beifong says, and pushes at his hands. Mako lets them drop like lead weights by his side. “Wu personally asked Raiko. He said he doesn't know what he'd do without you.”

“This can't be happening. I'm not even an Earth Kingdom citizen, I work for the Republic City Police Department.”

“Not anymore. You're just a pawn in Raiko's diplomatic game,” Beifong follows his gaze over to where Wu and Raiko are huddled together. “You can try talking to him, but I don't think he's going to let you quit.”

Mako doesn’t even know what to do with that. Or what game Wu is trying to play.

He means to ask Beifong when, exactly, Wu made this request, but before he gets the chance they’re told that a ship is coming in. That’s more important than any of Mako’s personal drama. Korra will come back, and then Bolin, and then eventually things will go back to normal.

But Korra isn’t there. 

Naga flings herself off the ship, excited as ever, and Tonraq descends the ramp with a smile on his face that quickly fades.

Mako has no idea what to do with that, either. Korra’s been lying to her own family for six months, at least, and could be anywhere. He’s all twisted up with worry and confusion and who knows what else. His head is muffled, like it’s full of static.

He’s quiet on their way home this time, busy turning over and over in his mind all the places Korra could potentially be. If she’d just written to him he might be able to piece together where she was or what she was doing. Everyone seems just as mystified as he is.

And he wants to ask Wu when he decided it would be a good idea to have Mako do this job for the rest of his life and what the hell he was thinking, but Mako has no idea where to even begin with that. Especially since Wu is doing the thing again, filling up all the corners of the car with chatter, half-drowning out Mako’s thoughts.

“Wu,” he finally says, sharp and sudden, and Wu practically freezes mid-sentence, his eyes wide.

Mako swallows around the shards in his throat and closes his eyes. “Just. Don’t. Please.”

Wu’s hand, which had been illustrating whatever he was saying, slowly drops to his lap. “Uh. Okay. Are you okay?”

“No.” Mako lets out a slow breath.

Mako can feel Wu’s eyes on him even as he rubs the bridge of his nose. After a moment, Wu asks, “is this about the Avatar? Because I bet she’s alright. She’s the Avatar! That’s kind of her thing.”

“It was,” Mako says softly. He is, suddenly, exhausted. “But she wasn’t. Before she left. She could be anywhere.”

For once, Wu is quiet. He doesn’t answer, at least not with words. Instead, Mako feels fingers on his, squeezing tight for a bare moment. 

When Wu’s hand drops away, Mako curls his fingers tight into his own palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C-c-c-canon time!


	10. Book 2, Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during season 4, episode 3

Mako means to ask about Ba Sing Se.

But the next two days are kind of a blur.

“So then the crowds are gathered, all excited to see my coronation, when all of a sudden, these boulders come rolling through.” Wu’s been talking for five minutes straight. Mako doesn’t know where he gets the breath from. “And guess what pops out of 'em? Earthbender dames! These gals start banging the boulders like drums and sing the song of my royal lineage. It's the most dynamite six-hour show you've ever seen in your life.”

He’d demanded that they go supervise the setup for his coronation, make sure it’s all according to his specifications. Mako didn’t even know he had specifications for it. As far as he could tell, Wu would’ve been perfectly happy to let other people handle the whole thing and just show up for the important part.

But for some reason now he feels the need to be involved, so here they are, watching metalbenders set up a spare stage and bleachers that can’t possibly accomodate the things Wu is describing. Exaggerating, really.

Wu is actually looking at him, now, his eyes wide and that giant smile on his face. Mako swallows hard. “Shouldn't you be getting ready to... I don't know—rule the whole nation?”

“Now, now, now. Don't get yourself,” Wu jabs a finger at him and Mako has to physically keep himself from pushing Wu’s hand away, “in a tizzy. I'll have ministers for all that. No sir, Mako.” He drapes an arm over Mako’s shoulder. Mako shoots him a look, trying to figure out how to move and what Wu thinks he’s doing when he continues, “when we get to Ba Sing Se, it'll just be two kooky pals livin' the life!”

“Yay,” Mako says weakly, without much feeling at all. He tries not to think about the last time Wu said something like that, or everything that followed. It doesn’t work.

Maybe Wu is trying to reset things, in his own way. Mako gets the impulse. Life was a lot easier when they were actually talking to each other. He can’t be the only one wishing that things would go back to normal. 

Except Wu’s the one who broke up with Mako, so maybe he’s just being Wu, and Mako is overthinking things. It wouldn’t be the first time. Bolin told him once that it was his signature.

He opens his mouth to ask Wu why when Raiko walks up right between them.

And then Wu’s arm is around his shoulder again and he’s yanking Mako toward the car, saying something about the suit needing one more fitting, which means Mako gets to sit in the corner and worry about Korra and the future of the Earth Kingdom while Wu gets weirdly invested in the trim on his cuffs being the correct shade of gold, or something.

After that, Wu claims to be exhausted even though he was literally just standing still for a few hours. The solution to this is apparently another hourslong spa treatment. 

Mako’s just glad he brought a book. He stands in the corner and doesn’t watch Wu getting rubbed down with mud or something, and definitely doesn’t pay attention to the way he groans when one of the attendants starts in on the third massage. Wu is pliant and soft under her hands, his skin practically glowing.

Mako scowls down at the pages—some military history he’s barely interested in—and tries to focus. Around him the air is thick and hot and scented heavily, and every few moments Mako gets the prickling sense of eyes on him. Each time he looks up, though, Wu is lolling on the table with his eyes closed.

When they finally get back to the hotel that evening, it’s to much-busier-than-usual lobby, bustling with people. More than half of them are stiff-backed military types in the drab green of Kuvira’s forces. Mako’s heart picks up. If she’s here, then that means—

“Bolin!” 

Mako isn’t completely sure it’s him until Bolin turns around, his face lighting up. Relief sweeps through Mako like cool water.

Bolin bolts for him. As soon as he reaches Mako he swerves right into their usual greeting, trying to grab Mako in a headlock, with a giant grin. Mako fights back like he always does, hardly meaning it. At least, after everything else, this hasn’t changed. Bolin is still slow on his left side, still telegraphs his every move so Mako knows exactly how to get out of the way.

Mako lets himself be yanked into a tight hug, grinning fiercely into the stiff fabric of Bolin’s uniform. Laughing, squeezes Mako tighter, cutting off his breath for a familiar second. He hadn’t even realized how much he missed this. Even with Bolin’s arms around him this tight, it’s like he can breathe for the first time in weeks.

But there are a ton of people here, including, Mako sees over Bolin’s shoulder, Kuvira herself. He pushes himself free of the hug and stands up a little straighter, watching Bolin do the same. “Look at you,” he says, smiling as Bolin’s shoulders straighten out into a crisp line that clearly had to be trained into him. “My little brother got all… important.”

“I know, right?” Bolin laughs, ducking his head. “I see myself in the mirror sometimes, and I think I'm in trouble before I realize, it's only me.”

Mako wants to hug him again, or something, tell him how good it is to see him, ask him if he’s really okay with everything that’s been going on, but he can still see Kuvira behind them, talking quietly with Bataar Jr.

“So,” he glances at them again and drops his voice, meeting Bolin’s eyes, “what’s it like working for Kuvira? From what I’ve heard, she’s,” Mako searches for a second, “pretty harsh.”

“No!” Bolin says immediately, holding out his hands, “I, I mean, she can be tough, sure, but we're turning around the Earth Kingdom like you wouldn't believe. You remember how bad grandma's neighborhood in Ba Sing Se was?” He shakes his head, his arms moving with his words like they always do. Apparently Kuvira couldn’t change him that much, “All that's completely changed. I mean, we’re really helping people.”

Bolin’s eyes flick over Mako’s face. He looks weird, almost concerned, and he barrels right back into talking without leaving space for Mako to say anything: “But what have you been up to? Fighting crime? Busting Triads? Chasing the ladies, Mako style?” Bolin nudges him in the ribs with a grin.

Mako steps back, his shoulders hunching. Bolin doesn’t even know. The last time they’d talked had been right before Mako got reassigned, and now he’s here singing Kuvira’s praises.

“Well,” He swallows hard, trying to keep his expression neutral, “I’ve been,” he turns, glancing behind him where Wu was, except he’s not there anymore, “working for Wu.” 

Frowning, Mako searches for a moment longer before he spots Wu staring a little too intently at his own reflection, his brows furrowed. He runs his fingers through his hair and straightens his already impeccable suit. His eyes glance at Mako for just a second, then they’re back on his own reflection, his grin too big as he shoots fingers guns at himself and winks.

Bolin is barely holding down a smile when Mako glances back at him. Embarrassment and nerves clench at Mako’s stomach. It feels like Bolin can see right through him to exactly what Mako meant by working. 

Mako swallows, tearing his attention away from Wu. “And, uh. Yeah.” He can’t even meet Bolin’s eyes. 

Bolin doesn’t answer him right away, watching as Wu goes to talk to Kuvira. Finally, he asks, “So have you seen Korra yet?”

“No,” Mako glances up, frowning harder. “She was supposed to come in with Tonraq, but he says she left the South Pole months ago. No one,” including and especially Mako, “knows where she is.”

At least Bolin looks about as worried as he feels. Mako sucks in a small breath. He can’t think about it too much. There’s nothing he can do. “It’s… really good to see you, Bo.”

“You too, big bro,” Bolin gives him another smile, but it’s not quite as bright.

“Are you,” Mako starts to ask, with no clear idea of where he’s heading except that he wants to make sure Bolin is really alright because he kind of doesn’t look like he is. He’s cut off by Wu stalking over to them. “She stole our suite!”

“What?” Wu looks equal parts furious and sad. Mako hasn’t seen that combination of expressions on his face before. “What are you talking about?”

“Kuvira!” Wu snaps, grabbing Mako’s arm. “She took our suite!” Mako shakes his hand off, too conscious of Bolin’s eyes flicking between them, the growing frown on his face. 

“She,” the words slowly settle, “Of course she did.” Mako holds back a frustrated groan. Barely.

“I’m sure she has her reasons,” Bolin tries to placate them with a weak smile.

Wu whips around to him with a glare. “Reasons? What reason can she have to take away our, our,” Deflating, Wu lets go of Mako’s hand.

“Bolin,” Kuvira’s voice cuts through the air. Bolin snaps to attention immediately. “Come.”

“Sorry, I gotta go,” Bolin gives Mako another half-hearted smile, his eyes skipping over Wu as he turns and walks away from them.

Her whole retinue—the soldiers that have been standing perfectly still the whole time, tracking her every move—fall in beside her, including Bolin. Mako watches them go with a hard frown.

“It’s a power play,” he says under his breath. His whole body is tight with worry. “This can’t be good.”

Wu turns up his nose. He watches them pass with narrowed eyes. “Hm. Well, it’s over tomorrow.”

“We’ll see,” Mako says.

Wu mutters under his breath all the way to the suite, about rights and longevity and Mako isn’t sure what. His shoulders are tight, hands curled into fists as Mako opens the door.

Wu surveys the junior suite with narrowed eyes.

The suite is a lot smaller. Mako isn’t sure where to put himself. There’s only one bed, which means that he’ll probably be on the couch. He’ll definitely be on the couch. Sharing a bed with Wu again is completely out of the question.

Maybe he’ll get a room next door.

He glances back at Wu, who hasn’t moved. He seems more upset than Mako has seen him since, since they broke up, he thinks. 

Wu meet his eyes for a second, then turns up his nose and disappears into the bathroom, leaving Mako to put their things away as best he can.

Well, his things. Wu can put away his own damn stuff. The hotel staff did the best they could, but their food is scattered all over the counter, and Mako’s little chest of clothes has been shoved haphazardly beside the couch, a few of his uniforms folded neatly on top. They probably didn’t have much time to move everything.

Kuvira probably didn’t give them much time.

Mako’s too tired to try and hunt a room down for himself. He’ll just sleep on the couch. The rest he can figure out after Wu’s coronation. 

Like Wu said. It’ll be over tomorrow.

* * *

It takes everything Mako has not to snap at everyone around him after Wu’s disaster of a coronation.

For a month he’s been saying that this exact thing would happen, trying to warn anyone, and it’s Varrick all over again: Mako was right, and everyone is worse off for it. And Wu is acting like nothing is wrong. It’s jarring. Raiko, at least, had stormed off muttering under his own breath, surrounded by people at his heels all hurriedly taking notes.

But Wu seems fine. 

Or, he seems like how a normal person would act if he were fine: he’s lying back on the couch in their tiny suite with an arm over his face, just breathing. He would seem actually fine if he were talking, filling up the silence like usual. 

It’s kind of nice to have some peace and quiet for the first time in about a month, especially since Mako is pretty sure that if Wu made him say anything he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from saying _I told you about Kuvira, and look what happened_.

That won’t help anything except to make Mako feel briefly better.

At least he won’t be going to Ba Sing Se.

There’s no way Wu’s going back there now, with no throne to occupy and hostile citizens supporting a military dictator.

Hostile citizens and his own brother.

Bolin can’t be okay with everything that happened today. He has as much of a distaste for overreaching authority as Mako does, and an even more overdeveloped sense of justice and fairness. 

But Kuvira is also, clearly, very good at manipulating people. Mako just has to trust that his brother is smart enough to see that.

Maybe he should still get that room next door. Anything would be better than the uncomfortable couch and having to wait two hours for Wu to get out of the single bathroom in the morning. 

“First I lose my suite,” Wu finally says, and Mako starts a little at the sound of his voice, resisting the urge to look at him, “then I lose my throne.” Wu sighs, tugging at the earring still pinned to his chest, “my royal brooch is a lie! I know you must be crushed, not getting to come back to Ba Sing Se with me.”

Frustration sparks under Mako’s skin. _You don’t know anything_ , he wants to say, but he bites down the words.

“Don't worry about me,” he says instead, as flatly as he can manage. “I'll find a way to make it.”

“Good ol' Mako, my big tough guy,” Mako’s eyebrow twitches, but Wu just goes on, oblivious, “Ugh. Okay, I just have to go on, move forward, take decisive action.” He slaps his hands together and stands up. Dread curls in Mako’s stomach. “Let's go shopping!”

Mako is saved from having to respond to that by a knock on the door.

Frowning hard, he goes to pull it open, expecting Raiko and all his people or some of the hotel staff, maybe, but on the other side is Bolin.

Wu’s hands land heavy on Mako’s shoulders. Mako swallows. 

“Ugh. Get rid of him,” he can feel Wu’s breath on the back of his neck, “He's with her.”

Mako steps forward, scowling, and Wu’s hands drop away. “He's my brother.”

He shuts the door in Wu’s face, which is very satisfying, and meets Bolin’s worried eyes.

“Interesting ceremony, huh?” Bolin asks, too-casually, and Mako knows immediately why he’s here.

He doesn’t want to believe it, but Bo looks nervous and he’s still in his perfectly-pressed uniform. Mako narrows his eyes. “You aren't going to keep working for Kuvira now that she's going against the wishes of the entire world, are you?”

Bolin brightens up, looking just like he did when he was telling Mako how great Varrick was all those years ago. “You don't understand! Kuvira is helping out all the poor people in the Earth Empire. People like our family. This is for the best.”

“I don't know, bro,” Mako says slowly. Something about Bolin’s voice, or his words, maybe, is off. 

“Okay,” Bolin tries, his eyes widening, “why don't you come with me, and you'll see for yourself? We've done a lot of good, and Varrick is working on some new innovations,” he reaches out to touch Mako like he always does, like he did when he was saving Pabu and telling Mako that he trusted his ridiculous employer over his own brother just because Varrick made him famous, but Mako really doesn’t want to be touched anymore. Bolin is being an idiot. Again. Mako is so tired of being ignored. “We're making history,” Bolin finishes quietly, and Mako feels his whole body go stiff.

“By crushing,” He bites out, and Bolin lets go, his eyes widening, “anyone who gets in your way?”

“That was just some tough rhetoric to let the people know that we mean business,” Bolin says weakly. Mako wants to shake him. Those can’t be his words. “I mean, Kuvira is basically just like Korra. She might seem hard to deal with, but it's just because she's so passionate and-and believes in what she's doing.”

“It seems like she's just a dictator who's taking the Earth Kingdom by force,” Mako says shortly.

“Oh, okay,” Bolin steps closer, his brow furrowed, “so you think your new best friend in there would be a better leader than Kuvira?”

Mako grits his teeth. “Well, no, but still—”

“Still what?” Bolin snaps. “Come on, Mako, I'm making a difference out there. What are you doin', huh? You're just some glorified butler for some snotty, rich bozo.” 

Mako sucks in a sharp, short breath.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, snapping, angry, his skin tight, as Bolin makes a harsh sound in his throat and turns on his heel, starting down the hallway, “I don't want to work for your glorious emperor in her military dictatorship!”

“Fine! I'm gonna go back to my awesome train, where we bring _freedom_ wherever we go. Enjoy licking the King's boots in your _junior suite_!”

Mako almost shouts after him, but he bites down on the words hard, watching Bolin’s back disappear. Again. He’s trusting himself to some powerful person again, and Mako tried so hard to teach him better than that but apparently he failed at that, too, and now Bolin is defending a dictator and Mako is exactly where he started, useless, with no idea what his life is going to look like. Maybe he should just quit. If Beifong would let him.

The door opens quietly behind him, and Mako whirls on his heel, choked with anger and frustration.

“Sorry, sport,” Wu says in a voice Mako’s never heard before, placating and even, “I heard it all.”

“Can't believe him!” Mako dodges around him, Bolin’s words swirling in his ears.

“I know!” Wu’s arm drapes around his shoulder, again, and Mako freezes. Wu hasn’t touched him this much in over a month. His arm is hot on Mako’s shoulders. He’s still in his gold-edged coronation suit. “Insulting another man's suite? It's beneath low. But I think I know what would cheer you up.” He pushes Mako around to face the door, and Mako lets him. There’s something in Wu’s voice that takes the fight out of him. “A visit to little Ba Sing Se Fashion Mall! I'll buy you a smoothie.”

His fingers press into Mako’s shoulder, and Mako deflates, wrung-out. As angry as Mako is at him, as hard as the last month has been, Wu’s the one who had his future ripped away from him today. Who needs Mako now, whatever Mako can be for him. No one else seems to care about Wu as a person.

How he must feel right now.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Wu’s doing a poor job of covering up his feelings, but Mako lets him chatter about the things he’s going to buy, lost in his own thoughts. He’d thought, after he’d been right about Varrick, that Bolin would put more stock in what Mako has to say. That his own brother would trust him over someone clearly just trying to grab as much power as she possibly can before somebody stops her. Mako can’t blame her, really: Wu’s not exactly ready to be the Earth King. He isn’t a strong leader. Mako isn’t even sure he knows what’s been going on in the Earth Kingdom all these years. They’ve barely talked about it. If he was a power-hungry dictator, he’d probably feel pretty confident snatching the kingdom out of Wu’s unprepared hands, too.

But Wu was so excited. About the party, sure, and the coronation, but he’d said it was a new start for his people. Mako had thought he was finally starting to take it seriously.

At one point, Wu wouldn’t have tried to keep up this facade of being okay around Mako.

He’s sitting there, drinking his smoothie apparently as loudly as he can. It makes Mako want to rip the damn thing out of his hands, but he just grips his own cup harder. 

Wu’s going on about something unimportant, clothes, still, like nothing at all happened today and what kind of suit he needs to add to his collection is the most important thing he needs to be thinking about.

It’s like after they broke up: Wu was exceedingly normal, in the way that Mako hates with the incessent talking and the shallowness about people and appearances. He pretended like everything was totally fine, like he hadn’t ripped away something Mako hadn’t realized had become incredibly important to him without so much as an explanation.

Wu is about to say something else when some girls walk by. Wu’s eyes track them and Mako clenches his first. If for once, Wu could keep his eyes to himself, at least around Mako—it’s like nothing ever happened between them. Like they were never anything more than this: royalty and bodyguard.

But Wu’s eyes narrow and then go wide. He jolts up out of the chair, smoothie spraying all over Mako. His chair falls over with a clatter as he runs at the pair of them, shouting, “Where did you get those shirts?”

The girls turn, their faces bright, pointing Wu toward a bustling little shop.

Just as Mako’s getting to his feet, wiping some of the juice from his uniform, Wu bolts for the kiosk with his hands in his hair.

“What is happening,” Mako mutters to himself as he hurries after Wu. He gets there slightly too late to keep Wu from hurling the rest of his smoothie at someone, shouting something about being a glorious defender.

“Get him!” Someone yells, and then all hell breaks loose. 

Mako grabs Wu’s elbow and tugs, hard. Wu tugs back, seeming intent on going after them himself.

“We need to get you out of here,” he snaps, and yanks Wu down the street. There’s an actual mob chasing them, a mix of people in green uniforms and people in those stupid Kuvira shirts.

Wu is slowing him down, and Mako can hear the actual anger in their voices, and he kind of gets it because this whole situation is ridiculous and Wu’s apparently upset enough to go around starting fights. Footsteps pound louder behind them. Mako’s always been fast but Wu is slow on a good day and can’t keep up, and they’re getting too close too fast. 

Whipping around, Mako shoves Wu behind him and sets the street on fire. That should hold them.

The flames aren’t anywhere near the buildings but it’s enough to stop the mob, which gives Mako time to actually pull Wu into a damp little alley between two shops and think for a second. Beside him, Wu’s breathing comes fast and short. 

The fire is already dying down. Mako can feel it. He drags Wu out of the alley and into the nearest building he can find, some hulking gold and green thing. All the fight has left him. Wu lets himself be tugged into tiny elevator, still panting, and then stays flush against Mako as they rise.

Mako’s heart hammers into his own ribs. He doesn’t look down.

When the elevator opens up, Wu gasps and pulls away from him. “It’s destiny! Look where we are, Mako! The royal palace.”

Before Mako can say anything, Wu sucks in a sharp breath and darts for the tiny replica throne. Mako stands, frozen, as he tears a small child off it and shoves the miniature crown onto his own head. The kid’s mother is shouting and Wu is shouting and, Mako realizes, actually crying, tears streaming down his face as he flops onto the tiny throne.

And Mako thought he was taking it well.

He’s never seen Wu like this. Then again, Wu always gets his way. Mako let him get his way, and does, maybe more now. Today, nothing has gone his way. 

“Okay, you’re losing it,” Mako tells him, ready to yank Wu off the damn thing. They have to get out of here. This fake palace is just making it worse.

“This is the worst day of my life!” Wu sobs, slumping on the throne. He looks pathetic, and some part of Mako wants to help him. The rest wishes he didn’t care so much. 

“Why?” Mako asks sharply, as Wu’s shoulders start to shake. Wu isn’t even looking at him, and Mako is sick of this, sick of holding his tongue and trying to keep any kind of peace and fucking done with being dismissed again and again. “Do you even want to be king? I mean, Kuvira might be a power-crazed dictator, but at least she spent the last few years working hard to make the Earth Kingdom somewhat better. If you were an Earth Kingdom citizen, do you think you're the kind of person you want as your King? What have you ever done for your people?” 

Wu looks up, his eyes wide and brimming over with tears. His lip trembles, and Mako sucks in a breath. He looks away from Wu’s miserable face. This isn’t the time or place. “I'm sorry. That was out of line.”

Wu is quiet for a moment. When he speaks next, he’s almost like the Wu Mako got to know over the last year. “No. You're right.”

Mako leans down with a frown. Wu has never said he was right before. It sounds wrong, coming out of his mouth.

“No one ever talked to me like that before,” Wu goes on, then he sighs, knocking the crown off his own head. “I guess I'm just a joke who got what he deserved.”

Something prickles on Mako’s skin. He turns, scanning the crowd, and frowns. Some of the people who Wu pissed off must have followed them up here. They don’t look happy.

He pushes himself to his feet. “Let's get you out of here and back to someplace safe.”

“Carry me?” Wu holds out his arms, looking up at him with wide, sad eyes.

Mako gives him a flat look. “No.”

Wu nods and picks himself up, still sniffling. 

He starts for the elevator, but Mako grabs his elbow and steers him toward a side-door. Wu is warm and quiet under his hand, letting himself be guided.

He likes that. The thought flits across Mako’s mind before he can do anything about it, and then he’s thinking about all the other times that stubborn, self-possessed Wu, who does exactly what he wants when he wants to do it with no thought for other people, wanted Mako to push him around.

His face burns. He shakes the thoughts out of his head.

Wu is strangely quiet again. Mako almost stops himself, but—”I think we’re clear,” he says, in case Wu was worrying about that. They’re outside the mall now, in a little alley leading to 3rd, Mako thinks.

Mako doesn’t really want to go back to their suite. It’ll probably just make Wu feel worse. He pulls Wu into the shadow of a building, scanning the city in his head for a safe place. The parks are out: they’ve been full recently, they’re too public. The Spirit Wilds are too dangerous.

Wu stays very close to him, watching Mako. Wu hasn’t looked at him in a month, not like this. Not with his full attention. 

“Thanks,” Wu says quietly.  
  
Wu’s eyes are red-rimmed, still, and there’s a tremble in his lips. Mako wants to tug him close, press his fingers into Wu’s soft hair. Or shake him. It’s a confusing combination.

He clenches his hands to stop himself from doing either. “For what? That’s why I’m here.”

“I know,” Wu says with a weak smile. “But you don’t have to,” he bites his lip, than shakes his head. With a huff, he turns around and throws up his arms. “So much for today! And so much for a throne. Let’s go back to how things were, right? Just you and me, on the town. Doing whatever we want to do.”

“Safely,” Mako adds, frowning. He sticks on _how things were_ for a moment, but he can’t. Not now. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to be… out on the town right now.”

Wu deflates with a nod. “You’re right. I guess we go back to our _junior suite_. Ugh.”

“I have an idea,” Mako says. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so hear us out: things have to break before they can get better! right? right.


	11. Book 2, Chapter 3

Air Temple Island seems smaller without Korra on it, but at least Mako knows everyone here. More importantly, he knows that no one here secretly supports Kuvira, and that Wu has only seen the temple itself and the docks, not the rest of it. It should distract him from the mess this day has become.

It would help if it could distract Mako, too, but he’s trapped in the whirlwind of his own thoughts: about Ba Sing Se, about Bolin and Korra, about whatever their relationship is, about this rollercoaster of a person Wu has become.

They’re greeted when they step off the ferry by several of the air acolytes and, behind them, a giant fuzzy silhouette that bounds forward and immediately slams Mako into the wood. 

“Naga—” Mako gasps between the swipes of a giant tongue, “it’s good to see you too, girl, let me up!” He pushes at her giant paws and she snorts, licks once more at his chest—where the smoothie hit him, he realizes—and settles back on top of him. A familiar fuzzy face pokes up over the top of her ears. Mako blinks. “Hi, Pabu.”

“Oh, you’re adorable,” Wu coos at Pabu, who perks up and looks at him. He jumps to Wu’s shoulders, leaving Wu laughing as Pabu curls around his neck.

“C’mon, Naga,” Mako shifts under her paws. She huffs hot breath at him one more time and then finally lets him free. Mako’s hair is probably a mess now. He hugs her anyway, shoving his face into her rough fur for a moment. “Bet you miss Korra, huh? What happened to her?” Naga’s heavy head drops onto his shoulder. “I know. I do too.”

A hand lands lightly on Mako’s back and he notices that Wu is next to him, smiling softly. So different than just an hour ago. “Hello,” Wu says to Naga, “You’re very large.”

“Her defining characteristic,” Mako agrees, as Naga huffs, and lifts her head from Mako’s shoulder to shove her wet nose against Wu’s cheek. Wu laughs and pets over her snout. He looks relaxed and happy, even though his eyes are still a little puffy. This was a good idea.

Or he thinks it is, until the Airbender children show up.

“You’re fancy,” Ikki says, eying Wu in his coronation outfit with his now-mussed hair.

“Well, thank you, little lady,” Wu gives her a dramatic bow. Pabu squeaks, leaping from Wu’s back over to Naga again.

“Oh,” Ikki’s eyes widen, her cheeks flushing a bit as she grins, “you’re that prince guy! From the dinner!”

“This is Prince Wu,” Mako says mildly, as Ikki wriggles in place. He holds an arm out for Pabu, who runs onto his shoulder and nuzzles against his ear. Covertly, when Wu isn’t looking, Mako turns his head and pushes a kiss against Pabu’s soft fur. “Good to see you too.”

“What are you doing here?” Meelo asks, his hands on his hips. “My dad said that you’re not the King.”

Wu sighs and flicks his hair out of his face. “No, I am not the King. Not yet, at least.”

“Why not?” Meelo asks accusingly. 

“Because,” Wu leans in conspiriorily, “there’s a plot against me.”

“What?” Meelo’s eyes go wide.

Wu nods seriously. “It’s true. And they almost got me, but Mako here saved me! He’s very brave.”

Meelo whirls on his heel, his eyes wide, and grabs at Mako’s uniform to pull him close. Mako blinks. Meelo’s eyes widen. 

“Tell me everything,” Meelo whispers. 

Mako shoots Wu a helpless look. Wu smiles brightly at him, crossing his arms over his chest. Mako narrows his eyes, but Wu just turns back to Ikki and asks about her hair, leaving Mako alone with Meelo’s creepy, creepy stare.

“Wu almost threw a smoothie at some Kuvira supporters, they chased him, I set the street on fire, and we left,” Mako says as quickly as he can. 

Meelo’s eyes narrow. “That’s not a very good story.”

“You’re not a very good listener,” Mako retorts, ignoring the snort of laughter from Wu behind him. “Don’t you have, I don’t know, important airbender stuff to be doing?”

“I do,” Meelo says, puffing up his chest. “I was doing it: checking on why you shady characters,” he points between Mako and Wu, “are on our island.”

“Oh, come on, Meelo,” Ikki rolls her eyes, one arm linked through Wu’s. “He’s the Earth Kingdom Prince. And I’m his future Princess,” she turns and drags Wu closer to herself. He gives Mako a weak smile.

“You’d make an excellent princess, Miss Ikki,” Wu tells her, patting her hand, “but I’m afraid that my heart belongs to someone else.”

She gasps and looks up at him. Mako does too. His tone is light, but his eyes flick over to Mako’s for a second, and Mako’s stomach does an uncomfortable flip. “Who?” Ikki demands. “Who? Spill!”

Wu sighs, shaking his head, his face a picture of tragedy. “I can’t. Oh, I wish I could! It’s a story for the ages.”

“Ugh. Come on,” she pouts at him.

“We’re laying low,” Mako says sharply. His cheeks are hot. “Don’t tell anyone we’re here, okay? Except your family. But no one else.”

“Fine,” Ikki tugs her arm out of Wu’s and hops up onto an air scooter. “Mom will be glad to see you, I guess.”

Meelo does the same with a grin. He yells “yeah! Mako’s dumplings!” as he and Ikki scoot off toward the temple, leaving Mako and Wu with Naga and Pabu.

“Mako’s dumplings?” Wu asks him after a moment.

Mako’s face is hot. He really needs to get this under control. This isn’t a thing anymore. “When we lived here for a little while, I helped Pema cook. I didn’t want to just freeload off of them.” He coughs. “The kids liked my dumplings, I guess.”

Wu is watching him with a small smile on his face. Then he grins. “I’d try your dumplings,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.

Mako shoves his face into his hands with a soft groan. What is Wu doing to him. “Let’s go. I’ll—give you a tour.”

Wu walks quietly next to him as Mako takes him around the island. He hasn’t been here in ages, except for the dinner the other night, but he remembers all of it: the ancient air bender panels, the gardens, the best spot to look at Republic City. It’s a beautiful island, and Wu asks quiet questions about Mako’s time here, keeping close to his side.

They end up in the gazebo, Wu dropping to the ground with a groan, letting his head fall back. 

Mako watches him for a second, unsure. He should really, really ask about Ba Sing Se, even if it’s not going to happen anymore. 

But Wu looks so tired.

But Mako got into this mess by not asking.

He sinks down onto the wood beside Wu, staring at the ground between his own knees, trying to figure out how to say any of the things he actually needs to.

“This is nice,” Wu says, after a long minute of silence. “Being here.”

“It’s like another world,” Mako says quietly. Even the planks under his feet are patterned with the Air Nation’s swirls.

Wu hums softly and Mako can feel his eyes on him. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Had to get you somewhere safe,” Mako mutters. “What’s safer than an island?”

“Probably an underground bunker,” Wu jokes weakly, “or, or the bottom of the ocean.”

Mako smiles at the ground. “And we can’t get to those. Island it is.”

Silence settles between them again, a light breeze blowing pleasantly through Mako’s hair.

Eventually, Wu says, “so, I guess I’m not the king.”

Mako lets out a long, slow breath and lifts his head. “Good.”

Wu glances at him, raising an eyebrow. “Good?”

“I mean—” Mako ducks his head again with a groan. “I don’t want Kuvira in charge, but,” he doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say. He sucks in another breath and tries again. “It came out of nowhere.”

“What did?” Wu asks.

Finally, Mako meets his eyes. Wu looks just as tired as he feels. “The coronation.”

“Mako,” Wu says softly, a small frown on his lips. “I’ve known about the coronation since, well. Since I left Ba Sing Se. That was kind of the whole point.”

“I get that,” Mako says, slow. “In theory.” His mouth is dry. Wu keeps flipping between his public persona and this softer version of himself. “You didn’t even ask. If I wanted to go to Ba Sing Se.”

Wu stares at him for a second, like he doesn’t understand.

“Oh,” he says eventually. He looks down at his hands, twined tight together between his knees. After a second, he glances over at Mako again, “you don’t?”

“Wu!” Mako’s hands fly up. “Why would I want to go to Ba Sing Se!”

Wu shrinks back. He lets out a breath and drops his head into his hands. “I don’t know,” he groans, the words muffled. “I, I’m so scared. Of going back there alone.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you won’t have to go, then.” Mako bites out. Wu’s slumps further into himself. Guilt pangs through Mako all over again.

At least Wu knows he’s right about Kuvira now. That’s something, Mako tells himself, and curls his hands into themselves to keep himself from reaching out.

“You’re all I have,” Wu says into his hands, barely audible. His voice is tight with tears. 

Mako’s heart lodges sharp in his throat. He swallows, unsteady. “This is what I meant. You didn’t listen to me about Kuvira. You didn’t ask if I wanted to come with you, you didn’t even tell me that was your plan! You were just suddenly going to be the king, and that was it as far as I knew.”

Wu looks up at him, eyes red-rimmed. “You’re right. You’re right, Mako. I, I messed up. Big time.”

“Yeah,” Mako says shortly. He’s wrung-out and tight with anger at the same time. His nails dig into his palms. “You did. But—” he wavers, watching Wu’s mouth tremble again, “you weren’t the only one. My idiot brother believes her, too.”

Wu nods quickly, his fingers digging into his knees. “Not just with her. With you. I…” he sucks in a breath. “I’m sorry.”

Against his better judgment, Mako slides closer over the smooth wood. “For what?”

Wu’s face twists, his nose wrinkling, brows furrowing, like he can’t find the words. After a moment he says, “for everything. For how I acted, for how I left things, with us.”

Mako’s stomach clenches. He stares at Wu, watching his jaw work. “You,” he starts, but his throat is tight and thick and words are stuck there, making it hard to swallow. This is the closest they’ve come to acknowledging their relationship in a month.

Wu goes on, the words coming in a rush, “I was so in my head about the coronation and you were telling me I was going to be bad at it and you were right but I was trying to be fine with everything and do everything right, but I didn’t, I messed it up. I messed up. And I’m sorry. I still care about you so much and I’m sorry for not listening to you because you were right about, about everything.”

“I thought,” Mako says tightly, his throat working, his face hot, “you were going to go back. To Ba Sing Se. Alone. You were so excited.”

“I was excited,” Wu shakes his head quickly. “This is what I’m supposed to do! To take the throne and get the Earth Kingdom back to normal. That doesn’t mean that I want to do that without you.”

There are so many things Mako wants to ask, and all he manages to pull out is, “Is that why?”

“Why, why what?” Wu looks up at him, and his face is open and honest and Mako missed that expression.

Like he’s actually listening to what Mako is saying, instead of hearing what he wants. “Why you freaked out today.”

Wu stares at him, lips parted. “Mako, I,” he sucks in a breath, “I don’t know what to do. I lost you, I lost my future, it… I don’t think I have anything, now.”

“That’s not true,” Mako says quietly, watching him. “I’m still here. I can’t just leave my job to sit in the palace with you all day, but you didn’t lose me.”

“Didn’t I?” Wu breathes, his eyes dropping again. “It feels like I did.”

“I’m right here,” Mako says again. 

Wu is quiet for a long moment. Then he nods. “Yeah. You are.” There’s a tiny, strained smile on his face, and his thin shoulders are hunched up around his ears. 

Mako hates that smile almost as much as he hates the way Wu’s been acting. “And you’re still going to be the Earth King. We can’t just… let Kuvira have your kingdom.” He’d come here so they didn’t have to talk about it, so that Wu could leave all those reminders behind, but letting him get away without thinking about this stuff is exactly what got them here in the first place. It’s what made Wu think he had no one, even though Mako’s been by his side for almost two years.

Nodding slowly, Wu shifts, sitting up a little straighter. “You’re right. We can’t. She, if this is how she behaves, I can only imagine what she’s doing to my people.”

His people, he says. Mako meets his eyes. They’re still a bit puffy. Moisture clings to his eyelashes. “It’s not good. From everything I’ve read. She’s fooling the people into thinking she’s doing it for them, and probably doing some good, but people in power like that are all the same.”

“You do know a lot about this,” Wu’s lips flicker in a tiny smile. He so close, and he looks so soft, so touchable, with his fancy clothes rumpled and cheeks pink. He looks like the Wu who was here two months ago, the Wu that Mako misses more than he wishes he did. “I… we’ll figure it out. What to do from here.”

Slowly, Mako reaches out and drops a hand to Wu’s arm, fingers curling around his wrist. Wu’s pulse jumps under his fingertips, his hand perfectly still.

“At least you’re admitting it now,” he murmurs. “Just… maybe don’t throw any more smoothies. At anyone.”

“No promises,” Wu laughs softly. His eyes flick over Mako’s and he opens his mouth to say something else, but closes it, looking out over the bay.

Mako lets out a shaky breath. He wants to tug Wu close, tell him it’s going to be fine. Fix it, somehow. The Earth Kingdom, Kuvira. Them. But there’s nothing he can do right now about the first two, and Mako can’t even begin to approach the last one. 

Wu’s hair is a mess, pulled at by the wind and mussed from his fingers being shoved into it earlier. His eyes are the same color as the trees whispering all around them.

He has to stop noticing those things. Mako tears his eyes away, stares at his own hand on Wu’s wrist instead. “Never heard you admit I was right before.”

Wu laughs quietly and glances over at him in a way that almost looks shy. Except that Wu has never been shy, not once since Mako’s known him. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Realized some things.”

“Sounds hard,” Mako murmurs.

Wu nods gravely, fingers twitching in Mako’s grip, like he wants to hold Mako’s hand, like he used to, in the car, on the couch, when they were alone, just like this.. “Really hard. Hurt my head trying.”

“Should’ve told me. I’m supposed to be protecting you.” The breeze curls over them again.

“You’ve been doing a good job,” Wu tells him quietly. Something hangs between them. It’s heavy and warm and feels like anticipation. “Mako,” he adds after a moment, “what, what do we do now?”

Mako lets out a slow, steady breath, watching shadows dance over the painted wood. “Now you want my opinion,” he mumbles, and lets his head drop back against the railing. Even the ceiling is ornate, all carved and painted with spirals and swirls twining together. 

“Yes,” Wu laughs, but it’s so quiet that the breeze snatches it away. Wu’s pointy elbow nudges against Mako’s ribs. “Yes, I want your opinion. That’s what I’ve been trying to say! You have good opinions,” he feels Wu shift, his body closer to Mako’s, “I want to know what you want.”

He said that before, months ago, before everything fell apart. 

Mako still doesn’t have an easy answer. What he wants. He doesn’t get to think about stuff like that, not like Wu does. 

“I,” Mako starts, and then sighs. “I don’t know.”

Wu’s eyes are on him, gentle and easy. Mako thinks for one awful, exciting moment that Wu might kiss him.

But he doesn’t. Wu shifts back with a nod “I know what I want.”

Mako lifts his head from the solid wood, sitting up straighter. “What?”

“To see the flying bison!” Wu laughs, really laughs, this time, and he slides his fingers down to grip Mako’s hand, tugging him up and out of the gazebo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk y'all, the way I wrote Meelo here is my crowning acheivement of this fic. Yeah, the rest is great and all but MEELO OKAY


	12. Book 2, Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place over episodes 4–6 in season 4.

“We’re moving,” Mako tells Wu the next day, after he’s finally dragged himself out of bed only to slump on the little couch that Mako slept on. 

Mako’s back hurts, and he’s already tired of room service. He wants their kitchenette back.

“What?” Wu blinks up at him, his legs curled up to his chest.

“Kuvira’s gone,” Mako stretches one arm above his head, wincing at all the cracks. “And I talked to the staff. We’re back in our suite.”

After a long moment of wondering whether or not Wu actually heard him, Wu is on his feet and his arms are around Mako, squeezing him tight. “Mako! You’re amazing.” He’s still soft and warm from sleep, his hair flopping over his face and tickling Mako’s throat.

Mako missed this. His arms are around Wu before he quite knows what’s he’s doing. Hugging him is like muscle memory. 

His heart thuds painfully in his chest. Mako lets his arms drop and steps away, clearing his throat. “I hate this couch.”

Wu nods vigorously, a bright smile on his face. “We’ll have you back where you belong,” he says. His arms are awkward at his sides, like he wants to touch Mako more.

Mako wants to touch him more. Spirits, this is a mess. He has no idea what Wu is feeling right now, and he’s kind of afraid to ask, because Mako doesn’t know his own feelings right now, either. 

“I’ll help you pack,” he says, because it’s something to do that isn’t think about the familiar heat of Wu pressed up against him. 

It takes a lot longer than Mako expected.

In retrospect, he really should have known, because Wu has so much stuff. 

And Wu just sits there for half an hour, slowly waking up while Mako pulls various crammed-together bottles and things off the bathroom counter and packs up the rest of his uniforms.

At least after that, when Mako passes him with an entire closed suitcase, Wu gets up and follows Mako into the bedroom to help.

“You can’t need this many suits,” Mako tells him as he hefts the last one out of Wu’s much-smaller closet. They’re all squashed together in there. Wu whined about it for at fifteen minutes after he discovered it last night, and then ended pulling out half of them to drape over the chair in the main room. “Why do you have this many suits?”

Wu is carefully folding the few things he has that aren’t hung up into one of his suitcases. “Of course I need that many suits. They’re all for different occasions!”

“And you can’t… rewear them,” Mako folds up one of his overlarge jackets and winces when Wu makes a wounded noise. “What? It’s a suit, you can steam it or something.”

“It’s delicate,” Wu rushes over to snatch the suits from Mako, cradling them to his chest like Bolin does to Pabu.

“It’s clothing,” Mako says flatly, but he turns to grab another armful. “What’s so delicate about it?” They could just have the hotel staff do this for them, but it’s just packing. Mako’s done this a hundred times, and he’s still uncomfortable with the way the staff here will do anything, no questions asked. 

The staff can carry everything up to the suite once they’re packed, though. Mako knows how to use his resources.

They just have to get through Wu’s truly ridiculous number of possessions first.

His suits lie neatly on the bed, and Wu snaps the suitcase shut, turning to look at Mako. “You’ve learned nothing,” he shakes his head sadly. “I really tried. Do I want to know how you treat the suit I got you? No. I don’t, it’ll probably make me cry.”

Mako’s pretty sure it’s in the bag that his other suit is folded in, the only one he owns. 

“You don’t,” he tugs Wu’s suitcase into his arms with a grunt of effort. The thing is so heavy, and it’s just full of clothes and maybe half the things Wu had in the bathroom. Mako has no idea how. He hefts it up and carries it out to add to the pile he’s been building by the door: his suitcase, and then four of Wu’s, now five, stacked in an increasingly large tower.

Now they just need to grab all the hanging suits and the rest of the things from the living room.

When he comes back into the bedroom, it’s to Wu snapping the last suitcase shut with a proud little smile on his face.

Mako blinks. The closet is completely empty, and the pile of stuff on the bed is gone. “Did you… finish?”

“Yep,” Wu twists to grin at him.

He looks so proud of himself. Mako almost smiles back, but he makes himself go check the bathroom first for any loose ends, but Wu must have gotten all of them.

He hears a thump, and peers out to see Wu trying to lug the suitcase across the living room.

“Need help?” He asks after Wu groans and pulls the thing a bare two inches across the wood.

Wu stares at the suitcase, then nods with a soft sigh. “Yes. The suits are heavy. Delicate, but heavy.”

He tried, though, and that sticks in Mako’s head even as he picks it up and pulls it with the rest into the hallway.

When they’re finally back in the Presidential Suite, Wu immediately goes and flops face down on what’s become his bed. He groans, limbs spread wide. “I missed you.”

“That was shitty of Kuvira,” Mako says quietly, watching him from the doorway. “I don’t get how nobody else sees it. Even now.”

Wu rolls over onto his back, propping himself up to look at Mako. “She’s good,” he says simply, “she’s really good at what she’s doing. And she’s making it so it’s not their problem.”

“Too good,” Mako frowns down at his own feet, rather than looking at Wu sprawled over that bed. “I don’t know what Bolin is thinking. I just hope—” but he can’t let himself think about Korra, either, because he’ll just get worried again and that doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t help him keep Wu safe, which is the one thing Mako can actually do right now.

“That she doesn’t take him along with my whole kingdom,” Wu grouses, crawling further up the bed and grabbing a pillow tight to his chest.

“…yeah. That.” Mako sighs, and Wu doesn’t respond, curled up small in the middle of the giant bed.

Mako leaves him there after a long minute and goes to make dinner. He has to dig out their sack of flour, but Mako throws himself into making noodles, covering the entire kitchen table (after cleaning it again himself) with flour to pull them. It’s therapeutic, tugging out strands of dough between his fingers, if a bit clumsy. One of the skills he’d picked up from Narook, before the Triads pulled them in full-time. 

He’s dropping the long noodles into a simmering broth to cook when Wu’s door creaks open. Mako glances up and then stares, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing: a pile of blankets with a pillow balanced precariously on top, overflowing as Wu carries them into the living room.

“What are you doing?” 

Wu glances at him, looking a bit like a kid caught stealing a cookie. “Uh… setting up a place to sleep?”

“You have a bed,” Mako says slowly.

Wu’s face twists and he shakes his head. “Kuvira slept in that bed.”

Oh.

Mako nods. “They changed the sheets,” He offers, and turns back to stir the noodles. He forgot to prep any of the vegetables.

“I know,” Wu sighs, “but it feels gross. Like she was still there, with that boring boyfriend of hers. What if they had sex in it?” He sticks out his tongue. Mako snorts despite himself and waves Wu over.

“I really don’t want to think about Kuvira having sex,” he says, as Wu drops his bundle on the couch. “Come chop scallions.”

“Ew, I don’t want to think about that ever. And I thought she was kind of cute,” Wu shudders, wandering over to him. He doesn’t touch Mako, but he hovers close to him, picking up the knife. “Uh, are you sure?”

“You’re gonna be fine,” Mako tells him. “Just keep your fingers curled in and aim the knife away from yourself.” He reaches over to put a hand on top of Wu’s to show him, and Wu sucks in a sharp little breath when they touch. Mako swallows and pushes his fingers in. “Like that.”

“Uh. Uh huh,” Wu says and he sways a little into Mako before pulling himself upright. “I can do that.”

“As evenly as you can,” Mako murmurs. He shifts away from Wu for his own sanity and to taste the broth, keeping half an eye on Wu haltingly chopping scallions.

“Yep. Even cuts. I can do that! I can cut a scallion,” Wu says, half to himself. “I’m going to be a king, so I have to be able to cut a scallion.”

“I think you’ll have people to do that,” Mako mumbles, biting down on a smile. He grabs the other knife to chop up the rest of his mushrooms.

“I guess. I guess that’s a perk. But I should have skills! Be able to do something for myself!” Wu’s saying, brows furrowed as he concentrates on the scallions. They’re actually very precise.

Mako’s sort of surprised, but, then again: Wu helped out with the packing today, too. Maybe Mako actually got through to him. “Yeah,” he says, and dumps in the mushrooms. Flavorful steam curls up into his face. “You should. Probably not chopping scallions, though. More like… state stuff. Leadership. Speeches?”

Wu shudders. “Speeches. Ugh. So boring. A guy like me isn’t meant to make state addresses! I’m meant for, for, well. Something else!”

Mako glances at him. “What are you meant for?”

Wu opens his mouth to respond, but hisses instead, dropping the knife and shaking out his hand. “Fuck. Ow!”

“What—” Mako drops his spoon to grab at Wu’s flailing wrist, trying to hold his hand still. The tip of his index finger is bright red, blood welling up from a long, thin cut. Mako pulls his hand closer, frowning at it. It doesn’t look that bad, but it’s hard to tell.

Wu wavers, then slumps against Mako’s body, moaning, “Wu down,” as he grabs at Mako’s uniform jacket.

Mako tries not to roll his eyes. He doesn’t succeed. “It’s a cut, Wu, you’re fine,” he clamps his hands on Wu’s shoulders, pushing him upright to steer him toward the sink. Sure, blood is running down his finger, but it can’t be bad enough to make him lightheaded. Mako rinses it under the tap, ignoring the wince from Wu when the water hits his skin. “Have you never gotten hurt before?”

Wu ducks his head, sulking, but he lets Mako take care of the cut. “I thought I cut off my finger.”

“It’s a cut,” Mako says again. He wraps Wu’s finger up in a towel and pulls him to the bathroom to bandage it properly. “Maybe pain management, too.”

“Mako,” Wu whines, tugging his hand out of Mako’s grip, “stop babying me.”

“I’m not babying you, I’m fixing your finger.” Mako says. “Just—hold still.”

“No,” Wu yanks his hand away and stalks over to the cabinets, opening one and staring into it.

Mako gives him about ten seconds, during which his cut starts bleeding again, before he stalks over and pulls the bandages off the top shelf. Wu tries to snatch it away from him and blood drops hit the counter.

Mako throws his hands in the air. “Why are you being like this!”

“Give me the bandage,” Wu demands, glaring at him.

“Fine,” Mako snaps, and shoves the little roll at him. Wu takes it and turns away from him, tugging the gauze off the roll and wrapping it around his finger.

“Seriously, Wu,” Mako says more softly. “What’s this about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wu says lightly.

“Yes, you do,” Mako narrows his eyes at Wu in the mirror. “You’re doing that thing where you’re a totally different person. You’re freaking out about scallions.”

Wu looks up at his reflection with a glare. “I’m just being myself.”

“I know you,” Mako says. “This—the person flirting with anything that moves—is not you.” Although actually, this Wu is the Wu that Mako knows: stubborn for no reason, convinced he’s right, kind of ridiculous.

Wu’s eyes narrow. He’s struggling with the gauze, tugging at it to try and rip off the excess. “So who am I to you, Mako?”

Mako sucks in a slow breath and keeps his hands at his sides. Wu wants to make this hard for himself, let him. 

“You’re,” he starts, and snaps his mouth shut, trying to pull anything out of the whirl of his own thoughts. “I don’t know. Not that.”

“Helpful,” Wu mutters, and he’s rummaging in the cabinet again. “Are there no scissors?”

“Drawer,” Mako says. “On your right.”

Wu yanks open the drawer and gets out the scissors. He stares at them for a minute.

With a sigh, he hands them to Mako. “Can you?”

Silently, Mako finishes dressing the cut. 

He can’t say who Wu is, exactly. He’s too complicated to distill down into a few words. But Mako has to believe that the Wu he got to know over the last year and a half, the one who held his hand on Air Temple Island and kissed him in the ocean and told stupid jokes that made them both laugh—he has to believe that one is the real Wu. He likes that person. He misses that person.

“Thanks,” Wu mutters. He stares at somewhere on Mako’s chest.

“It should heal quick,” Mako says. He’s still holding Wu’s hand. Slowly, he lets Wu go, stepping back. “…I’m sorry. For snapping.”

Wu’s eyes flick up to his face. Slowly, he shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. It’s fine.”

Mako shakes his head, too, mostly at himself. “You asked what we do now. I know what I want.”

Wu looks at him, his eyes wide. “Tell me.”

“I just want things to go back to normal. I want you to be normal.” Mako pauses. “Your normal.”

“What’s my normal?” Wu asks, nose wrinkling.

“Panicking about blood and helping me chop scallions,” Mako admits. “Not flirting with my friends. Please.”

Wu’s lips flicker in a smile, “Okay. Are you jealous?” he asks, taking a step closer to Mako.

Mako narrows his eyes, his face heating. “No.”

“You’re jealous,” Wu says, and he’s up against Mako now, face bare inches away. It would be so easy to lean down and kiss him.

“I am not,” Mako says, and he knows Wu doesn’t believe him, because his lips curve in a tiny smile. 

Wu watches him for a long moment before he replies, “I’ll be normal, Mako, if you’ll be nice to me again.”

Mako doesn’t know he’s turned on or feeling guilty or both. “I—” he takes a step back out of Wu’s space, his brows furrowed. “I am nice,” he says, but he sighs a moment later. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Wu agrees, and holds out his hand. Mako takes it with a wry smile, then jerks back.

“Soup,” he says to Wu’s wide-eyed look. 

“Soup?” Wu asks, then he laughs, grabbing Mako’s wrists. “Soup!”

“Stop making me forget about food,” Mako mutters, pulling him out of the bathroom.

The soup is fine, luckily. And Wu smiles at him, a soft, normal smile, while they eat.

* * *

They manage to find some kind of normal. 

Mako is worried about the growing support for Kuvira, so he tells Wu that all his ideas for stress relief need to wait. That they need to keep laying low. It chafes, a bit, to be stuck in the hotel except for the occasional grocery trip, and one time when Wu declares that he’s had enough and drags Mako to a spa all day.

Mako can’t really blame him. Every day there are reports of Kuvira’s growing presence in the Earth Kingdom, breathless coverage of her coup that makes Mako’s skin crawl. Wu just looks pale and sort of haunted every time Mako brings it up, and then Mako has to distract him by teaching him card games and the fast version of Pai Sho that Shin taught them. Wu’s terrible at them, but they can laugh while they play, and that’s something.

It’s nice. Well, as nice as it can be, given the circumstances. Mako is still worried about Korra, and Bolin, even if he’s also kind of angry at his brother for the choices he’s making.

At least Wu isn’t avoiding Mako anymore. He’s been a little more like his normal, tactile self, tapping Mako on the shoulder or brushing his arm when they cook. And he’s been actually helping Mako in the kitchen, although admittedly it’s mostly taking his directions about what to chop and being very careful not to cut himself.

One evening, after about a week of laying low, Wu squeezes Mako’s shoulders and proclaims, “Put on your suit, we’re going out.”

“We are?” Mako twists, looking up from his book. He’s about to just give up on it. Beifong’s been too busy to send him any more cases, though, so it’s kind of all he has. “Where?”

“Mm, not telling,” Wu’s smile says a lot more than that. “It’s a surprise.”

Warmth and worry curl up neatly together in Mako’s stomach. He closes his book. “A surprise involving nice clothes?”

“This one does,” Wu grins at him, and when Mako looks at him he can see that Wu is already dressed up, his hair perfect, his suit pressed. That’s why it’s been so quiet. “Come on!”

“Which suit?” Mako asks as he pushes himself up. 

“I’m not going to tell you what to wear,” Wu says evenly, but then he leans in and whispers, “but I recommend the red one.”

That warmth turns to liquid heat. Mako’s lips part, his breath catching, and he turns to ask Wu what or something, figure out what that tone is about, but Wu’s already standing up straight, looking innocent.

Maybe Mako’s imagining things.

“Sure,” he says weakly, and goes to change before he does something stupid. He hasn’t worn it since that night at Blue Madame. In fact, he realizes, it’ll be the first time in over a month that he hasn’t worn his uniform. 

Mako shakes his head at himself as he strips out of his jacket. He gets dressed quickly as soon as he finds the damn thing, pressed, as he thought, into the hanger with the other one, buried at the bottom of his chest of clothes. 

Wu is sitting on one of the gilt chairs in the living room, looking elegant in his deep green suit with his gold necktie. There’s a paper bag next to him that he picks up when he sees Mako. “Let’s go!”

“Where are we going?” Mako asks again, knowing he isn’t going to get an answer. Wu leads him out of the hotel and to a waiting Satomobile, smiling mischievously the entire way.

When the door shuts behind them, Wu flashes him another smile. “Not going to tell you where we’re going, but,” he glances at Mako, “I will tell you that we’re celebrating.”

Mako raises his eyebrows. “What is there to celebrate?” 

“You!” Wu exclaims, “we missed your birthday. So this is your I’m-sorry-we-weren’t-really-talking-on-your-birthday birthday dinner!”

“Right,” Mako says with something soft and unfamiliar unfurling in him. Wu’s looking at him with wide, expectant eyes and a smile that almost seems nervous. “I forgot,” he admits a second later, making Wu shake his head.

“Birthdays are important! You’re… 22 now?” 

Mako has to think about it for a second. He was almost 21 the last time he wore this suit, and it’s been over a year since then. 

What a strange year it’s been.

“Yeah,” he says. “Somehow.”

“So young,” Wu says lightly. 

Mako rolls his eyes, nudging at Wu’s knee with his own. “You’re not that much older.”

“I was that young once,” Wu goes on, like he didn’t hear Mako, but he’s grinning and he nudges Mako back.

They pull to a stop in a part of the city Mako isn’t very familiar with. They’re near the water but on the south side of the bay, away from Air Temple Island, in front of a restaurant advertising itself as a Fire Nation barbecue place.

Mako almost grins. “You know you have to cook your own food at these places.”

“Yep,” Wu says, and he actually holds out a hand to help Mako from the car. Meeting his eyes, Mako takes it, slowly, letting Wu tug him up. Mako’s heart jumps as their fingers drop away. “It might be your birthday, but I’m expecting that you’ll do most of it.”

“After the egg disaster?” Mako snorts as he shifts ahead of Wu to push the door open, “Definitely.”

The host greets them with a bow and doesn’t even ask for Wu’s name. Perks of being famous, Mako supposes. They’re led to a small table at the back of the restaurant with a grill in the middle of it. Wu pushes the bag he was holding onto the table—it’s nice, all dark red paper with a gold ribbon tied around the handle—and Mako gives in after Wu glances at him for the fourth time and asks, “What is that?”

“Oh, this?” Wu says lightly, shooting him a smile. “This is your present.”

“When did you get this?” Mako tugs it closer to himself. He wonders if he’s supposed to open it now. There’s probably some etiquette thing Mako doesn’t know about around presents at dinner.

Wu nods at him. His smile is somehow both bright and tight-edged, pushing dimples into his cheeks. “A while ago. Before, well.” The smile dims a bit. “You know.”

“Yeah.” Mako doesn’t want to think about it. He tugs at the ribbon, letting it unfurl in his hand, and winds it into a little ball before pulling the bag apart. Inside is a box, also wrapped in thick, dark paper. 

Mako slides one finger under the edge, lifting it away from itself, careful not to tear it.

“Mako,” Wu says flatly, “you don’t have to be careful with it.”

“This is nice paper,” Mako says, frowning, and lifts up the other edge. 

Wu narrows his eyes, watching Mako’s hands. “You’re driving me crazy here, buddy.”

“Wrap it in newsprint next time if you want me to tear it,” Mako tells him, and laughs when Wu groans. He goes slightly slower, watching Wu squirm.

What he unwraps is another box, wooden, which seems excessive. When Mako opens that one, a watery piece of fabric falls right out onto the table.

Mako stares at it for a second, picks it up, and then laughs as it slides through his fingers and he realizes what Wu got him.

When he looks up, Wu is frowning, “you don’t like it?”

“I do,” He says, through his laughter, and when Wu just looks mystified Mako continues, “It’s a scarf.”

“Yes,” Wu says, bobbing his head. “You said you gave yours to your grandma.”

“I did,” Mako drapes it over his neck, smiling. It’s nice, all gold with a subtle pattern woven into it. “People keep buying me scarves. This is nice. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the smile is back on Wu’s face, and he reaches over to touch the scarf where it lies on Mako’s chest. Mako swears he can feel Wu’s fingertips through the fabric. He freezes under the touch, watching Wu’s smile widen as his hand drops away. “Good. I knew it would match your eyes.”

“Thanks,” he says again, quiet under the lump of emotion in his throat. Mako’s always been terrible at getting gifts. And Wu keeps touching him, casual, normal, and Mako doesn’t know what to make of it. 

But Wu was thinking about this even when they were barely talking to each other, and that means maybe more than the scarf itself. 

Mako ends up ordering everything for them, and teaches Wu how to cook some of the easiest pieces they get. It’s a nicer place than Mako ever would have gone alone or with Bolin. He kind of gets why expensive food is worth it, though. It’s amazing. 

It feels almost normal, being with Wu, at a nice restaurant, just the two of them. It doesn’t feel like Mako is working for him, or like they're on the verge of war. They stay until the restaurant is almost closed, drinking too much sake. Wu is right next to him, has been for most of the night, and keeps smiling at him. Their hands brush and Wu keeps shifting closer to him until they’re practically pressed together. 

There are a few moments when Wu stays too close for too long, or his eyes flicker down and then back up. Almost, if Mako isn’t imagining, like Wu’s thinking about kissing him in the middle of the restaurant. 

There are a few moments where Mako almost kisses him, when Wu cooks something right and does a little cheer for himself, when he snorts so hard at something Mako says that sake goes up his nose.

But that’s not a part of this new normal. 

Mako knows that. They haven’t talked about it, and Wu is going to be the king once they can get this Kuvira thing sorted out. There’s no place for whatever he had with Mako in that.

Finally, Wu calls for the check and pays the enormous sum that Mako pretends to ignore before Wu tugs him out to the waiting car. Even though Mako knows how that works now, it still seems like magic, having the driver there at the exact right time.

Wu’s hand lands on Mako’s in the car. “Mako,” Wu smiles softly, “happy birthday.”

He keeps doing that. Smiling like he used to, his fingers curling warmly over Mako’s hand. Mako should ask, but he can’t find the words, or even what he wants to know.

“Thanks,” he says instead, and drops his eyes from Wu’s soft, open face.

Wu’s smile fades, and he pulls his hand away slowly. 

Mako almost tugs him back, but he stops himself and lets Wu retreat across the car. He presses a hand to the soft scarf instead, curling his fingers into the fabric.

The rest of the ride home is silent.

The comfort of the last few hours dissolves, leaving them in the the place they’ve been so often recently: together, but very far apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is Totally Not a Date, though, y'all, don't be mistaken


	13. Book 2, Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during season 4, episode 7

Mako is just cleaning up from a late breakfast a few days later when the suite’s phone rings. Wu picks it up with his usual, “Prince Wu, at your service,” and goes silent, so Mako stops paying attention, focused on the hot water under his hands and not the news swirling around about Zaofu falling to Kuvira. Wu read the speculative headline that morning and immediately went quiet. 

He needs a new book. An interesting one, to keep his mind off everything. Maybe Asami will have a recommendation.

A few minutes later, when Mako has just moved onto the giant pan, Wu pops his head into the kitchen. “It’s for you. The Avatar,” he waggles his eyebrows at Mako.

Mako stares at him for a second, the words slowly sinking in. Wu’s brows rise slightly.

Korra. Is calling him. He drops the sponge he was holding and bolts for the receiver, giving Wu a wide-eyed look as he presses the cold metal to his ear. “Korra?”

“Hey, Mako.”

Her voice is a little tentative, and so familiar, and Mako grins stupidly into the phone, pressing it as close to his ear as he can get it. “You’re okay. I was… so worried.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Korra says, and Mako can almost see her face when she does: wincing a little and smiling a little. Three years later, and he still feels like he knows her better than anyone. “I was… well. I’ll tell you about it when I see you. Want to get lunch with me and Asami?”

“No,” Mako says, and laughs when Korra does, like no time has passed at all. “When? I’ll get us reservations somewhere.”

“Reservations,” Korra repeats with laughter in her voice, “who are you?”

“Some of us have spent the last few years picking up new skills,” Mako says. “Seriously, though. Today? When did you get back?”

“A couple hours ago,” she says, “Tenzin’s kids picked me up—you know, that’s also a long story. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon,” Mako repeats. He’s still smiling when he hangs up the phone. “Wu,” he turns around to see Wu leaning on the wall, watching him. Wu’s been listening, of course. The man has no shame at all. “Do you know any nice-ish restaurants that would have a spot open in a few hours? Kind of private?”

“Do you even have to ask,” Wu grins wickedly at him. He narrows his eyes, “so, lunch with the Avatar.”

Mako nods. He’s still smiling, he knows that, it’s just—spirits, he was really worried. Korra could have been anywhere, and most of the time in Mako’s experience, when she vanishes, it’s because something bad has happened. “She got back a couple hours ago. I need to call Asami, too—so you do know a place?”

“Oh, definitely,” Wu’s eyes are fixed on his face. “Table for four, I’ll set it up.”

In retrospect, Mako should really have anticipated that. 

Every time he brings up Korra, Wu gets ridiculously excited. He seems to think she’s some kind of legend. Mako gets that. Also, Mako can’t exactly go to lunch without Wu: it’s his job to make sure Wu is okay, which means if Mako is going somewhere, Wu has to be there too.

“Uh—” he starts, but Wu’s face starts to fall a little bit, like he’s legitimately disappointed, and Mako winces and drops his head. “Yeah. Let me know where.” He looks up again, meeting Wu’s eyes for a moment. “Thanks.”

“Any time,” Wu stares at him intently. 

Mako frowns. Wu’s eyes flick over his face, like he’s waiting for Mako to say something or do something, but Mako has no idea what that thing might be. He knows this look: it’s that intent look he used to get right before he’s about to kiss Mako.

But he doesn’t. He grins, straightens up and grabs the phone off the hook, waving Mako away.

“Okay,” Mako mumbles, and leaves Wu alone to do whatever it is he does when he gets people to do things for him.

Of course they end up at a restaurant where Wu knows the chef. 

Even if Mako didn’t try very hard to keep Wu from coming with for reasons he is not thinking about right now, he did corner Wu before they left to remind him of his edict to be normal. 

“So no flirting with Korra,” he’d said, frowning, “please.”

“Oh, please,” Wu had tried to wave him off, but Mako was in his space, and he could see Wu’s shoulders tighten. “I won’t flirt with Korra.”

Mako had relented.

And to Wu’s credit, he doesn’t flirt with Korra. He just asks her to _pop into the Avatar state_. 

Mako wants to sink into the floor. Three years, and this is what Korra comes back to.

“So can you go into the Avatar State again?” Asami sounds concerned. Mako glances at her, taking in the little furrow between her brows. “I was worried when you told me you couldn't.”

“Wait,” Mako sits up a little straighter, looking between them. Neither Korra or Asami will meet his eyes. “When did she tell you she couldn’t?”

They look at each other, their faces twisting. Mako frowns. “What’s going on with you two?”

Tentatively, Korra meets his gaze. “I… wrote to Asami while I was away. I asked her not to tell you. I’m sorry.”

“Well—” Mako tries to work through that. Three years, and she was writing secret letters to Asami? More than that—she told Asami not to tell—”why didn’t you ever write to me?” That sounds desperate. Mako swallows, and tacks on, “Or Bolin?”

“I don’t know,” Korra won’t meet his eyes anymore. “I guess I… didn’t know what to say.”

 _Neither did I_ , Mako wants to say, but they’re in a nice restaurant and everyone is looking uncomfortable, and Korra and Asami keep looking at each other. Wu is watching him, too, his eyes strangely focused. Mako feels weirdly irrelevant and scrutinized at the same time. He crosses his arms, hunching down. “A hello would have been nice,” he finally says. 

“If it makes you feel any better, she didn’t write to me either,” Wu says airily.

“Why would she...” Mako starts to snap, but he sees the soft expression on Wu’s face. He sighs, “Never mind.” Wu is still watching him, his lips wrapped around the straw of his drink. Mako looks away.

Apparently none of them can get along anymore, because as soon as Asami tells them about her father, Korra starts snapping, too. There’s something familiar in both of their expressions that Mako can’t put his finger on. What happened to them?

Well, Korra left for three years, and apparently couldn’t find anything at all to say to Mako in that time. After everything they’d been through together, after all of the time they spent together, good and bad, Korra can’t even write a simple letter, and Asami keeps their talks a secret. Like Mako isn’t worth keeping in contact with if he isn’t physically there.

It hurts more than he wants it to.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by Wu slamming his glass down on the table, too-loud, and announcing in his most Royal Voice (the one Mako hates) that he has to pee.

Mako’s face burns. “Come on,” Wu says, deflating a little bit, “I need you to stand guard.”

He apparently feels a lot less safe than the time he dragged Mako into a stall to—Mako shakes that thought away, narrowing his eyes at Wu. He’s way, way too aware of Korra and Asami watching him, the barely-suppressed amusement. His face feels like it’s burning up. “I'm not gonna hold your hand every time you have to empty your royal bladder. Go to the bathroom on your own for once.”

Wu stands very still. The kind of still that Mako has learned means that the Wu he hates is going to come out. 

But then Wu shrugs. “Fine,” he says, brushing past Mako.

“Do you always go to the bathroom with him?” Korra says, watching Wu walk away with a raised eyebrow.

“I don't go _with him_ with him,” Mako raises his hands, “I just stand there in the general vicinity while he—” they’re both staring at him. Mako cuts himself off and slumps. “I don't want to talk about it.”

And then Asami and Korra go back to more or less ignoring him.

He knew they were friends, he just didn’t know they were… this close, maybe. Sure, he has nothing to show for the last three years of his life and Asami has accomplished a lot, but—Mako really needs to get over himself. It’s not all about him.

The waiter brings their food, including Wu’s, and sets it down wordlessly like they do at these fancy places. 

Mako frowns as Korra and Asami start eating, and then keep eating in strange, uncomfortable silence. 

“I wonder what’s taking Wu so long,” he says after a few minutes. He was kind of rude to Wu. And it is still his job to keep Wu safe. “He’s not one to miss out on lunch.” Korra and Asami exchange a wordless glance, and Mako shoves himself up. “I’ll go check on him.”

He’s probably fine. Mako is probably being paranoid. The worst thing that’s happened to Wu so far is getting hit with a pie, of all things. The worst un-prompted thing, anyway.

He pushes open the bathroom door, frowning at himself. “Wu? You in here?” He glances around the bathroom. No sound. Nothing but a strange, sick-sweet smell in the air. “Come on, your octopus fritters are getting cold.”

Silence.

Mako checks in each of the stalls. Wu isn’t in here. No one is in here.

He could still have just run off, Mako tells himself, even though his limbs are already jolting with adrenaline.

He checks again, just to be sure, and is just about to start listing to himself places Wu could have gotten to without Mako noticing when he hears a telltale thud from outside.

He bolts after the sound and skids into a hallway at the same time as Asami, just in time to see Korra drop to the ground from a pillar of hallway, her face twisted in anger. “They've got Wu!” she shouts, then she’s shoving herself up and dashing past the back door. “Get the car, I'm going after them!”

Mako’s blood freezes.

Fuck. 

Mako doesn’t remember being this frantic to find someone since Tarrlok grabbed Korra. Not only did he completely, absolutely fail at his one job, but Wu’s never in his life had something like this happen to him. If he’s faint over pies and cutting his finger, what’s he going to do against Kuvira? 

What’s Kuvira going to do with him?

Korra and Asami work together flawlessly, somehow, and her weird Avatar senses end up being right which is great, but also frustrating. Mako can’t do anything. He’s following these two extremely competent people who are doing his job for him, and he’s useless and terrified that it isn’t going to work and that Wu is gone forever. Mako doesn’t know what he’ll do if Wu is really—if they can’t get him back. He can’t let himself think about the alternative.

Even if he can’t stop thinking about those reports of what Kuvira does to her enemies. How much of a threat Wu is just by existing. He’s probably the one thing keeping her from truly claiming the Earth Kingdom. If Wu was gone—

Mako slams down on the thought before it can get any further. Wu won’t be gone. He just has to trust that Korra’s weird spirit powers are true, and that Wu is on one of these trains and that it isn’t too late.

All Mako can think about is Wu speeding away in some airship to die.

Korra seems to think they’re in the right place, but— “How do you know for sure that he’s here?”

“I don't,” Korra snaps under her breath. “But I had a feeling, okay?”

Mako swallows around the sharp bolt of panic. “And I'm just supposed to trust ‘Avatar feelings’?”

Korra whirls, familiar anger on her face. “You wouldn't have to if you had guarded the prince like you were supposed to!”

Guilt freezes Mako right where he is. He stares at Korra, her hair short and strange, her eyes dark and full of worry and anger.

Asami is right. If they don’t find Wu soon, he’s as good as dead, and he can’t think about that, especially because Mako can do absolutely nothing to help except trust that Korra’s feelings are true, and Korra’s snapping at him like she did right before they broke up and apparently doesn’t trust him. 

“Oh,” he says as Korra yanks open the doors to the darkened luggage car, “so it’s my fault Wu disappeared.”

“It’s certainly not mine!” Korra snaps, harsh and sharp. 

Mako grits his teeth and almost snaps back, but Asami says, “Guys, shh. Listen,” and Mako does.

At first he thinks it’s the terrified pounding of his own heart.

But it’s a trunk, moving slightly and thumping in the shadow of some luggage. Mako is over there before he even realizes, kneeling beside it, tugging it open.

“Wu!” Relief floods his limbs, making him shaky. Wu is curled up, his limbs bent at awkward angles, looking sleepy and terrified. “Wu, it’s me.” Wu struggles up, and Mako reaches down to help him, more glad than he can even say to feel Wu warm and solid under his hands. 

“Mako? Where am I? Am I dead?” Wu’s staring at him with wide eyes, his hands on Mako’s arms.

“No,” Mako says, a little rough, all that guilt stabbing into him all over again, “you’re on a train. We're gonna get you out of here.” Wu doesn’t seem to be hurt, really, just woozy. Mako can’t see any blood, and his eyes are clearing quickly, so he probably doesn’t have a concussion.

Wu starts to say something, but the door bursts open and Mako is on his feet, putting himself between them and Wu.

They don’t waste any time. The slick clang of metal cuts through the air, and Mako yanks Wu out of the trunk and the line of fire. 

Somehow, Mako forgot Korra could metalbend. She rips the top of the train open and Mako has to grab Wu and throw him up there because he’s still shaky on his legs and insistent that he isn’t going. Mako isn’t even thinking: he’s running on pure adrenaline, trying to keep them all alive. He goes down, and then Wu is in Asami and Korra’s hands. Mako struggles back to his feet with fire racing through his veins.

“Jump!” Korra shouts. Mako trusts her with his life, so he tugs Wu close and lets her surround them with air as they go hurtling toward the ground. Wind rushes in his ears, and his limbs aren’t his own.

When they do hit the ground, for a moment, all Mako can hear is the too-quick thudding of his own blood in his ears.

He picks himself up, spits out a mouthful of dust, and immediately turns to pull a groaning Wu up out of the dirt. “You alright?”

As soon as Wu is on his feet, his arms are around Mako, squeezing him tight. Mako can feel him shaking. “Yes!” Wu gasps. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. You are definitely getting a raise, buddy.” Wu finally pulls back with a laugh, his bright eyes locked on Mako’s. For a second, Mako thinks Wu might kiss him in front of Korra and Asami. 

He’s dusty, and his hair is a mess, but he’s whole and alive and here. Mako leans down without really thinking about it, his heart thudding, but then Korra groans as she stands up, startling him out of it. Swalloing, Mako steps back, dropping his hands. The adrenaline is fading, and guilt is seeping in cold to replace it. “You should be thanking Korra.” His voice sounds strange and distant to his own ears. “We never would have found you without her.”

Wu tears his eyes from Mako, and looks over at Korra with a small smile.

Their walk across the plains takes forever. Even Wu gets tired of talking eventually, just trudging silently along beside Mako. He perks up briefly when they actually get to the Sato Estate, bolting off to the bathroom, but Mako can’t imagine he’s feeling much better than Mako is right now: exhausted. And dusty. Very, very dusty.

“Thank you, Grandma,” Mako says as she leads the three of them into the foyer. It’s already sunset, the light painting everything a soft pink. Mako’s family crowds around them but Yin shoos them away as she leads them to a sitting room off to one side. Mako smiles gratefully at her as she shuts the door with the promise to bring back drinks for them.

“I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else for my first day back,” Korra laughs, stretching out her arms.

“No,” Mako says dryly, flopping onto the first soft thing he sees. For a second he wonders if he should have followed Wu to the bathroom—look what just happened—but he’s safe here, if anywhere. He’ll be fine. Mako has to believe that he’ll be fine and that he isn’t going to need to follow Wu around for the rest of his life to make sure of that. 

He focuses on Korra and Asami. “What are you two going to do now?”

They glance at each other. “I guess go back to the city,” Asami says, “I have work to do.”

“I need to catch up with Raiko,” Korra grimaces, “as much as I don’t want to.”

“He’s been impossible,” Mako adds sourly. “He thought Kuvira would just… give everything back, because she promised him she would.”

“I heard about that,” Korra grimaces. “I bet your prince wasn’t too happy about that,” she jerks her thumb in the direction Wu ran in. 

Mako nods, trying not to think too hard about _your prince_.

Asami flashes Korra a smile. “You should have seen his coronation. It was… really something.”

“It was a mess,” Mako says dryly. “And we haven’t been able to do anything since then. Raiko’s official stance seems to be ‘let’s let this play out.’ I mean, I’m not a politician, but what kind of decision is that?”

Korra shakes her head, “He thinks it’s not his problem. But he made the problem.”

“He only thinks getting re-elected is his problem,” Mako says darkly. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what we can do.”

He can feel Asami’s eyes on him, but Korra says, “I need to see where his head is at. I wish I had more time, but,” she lets her head fall back, eyes closing.

“You’re really in this, aren’t you, Mako?” Asami asks quietly. “You and Wu.”

Nerves jolt through Mako. “What do you mean? Of course I’m in this. It’s my job to be in this. It’s,” he sucks in a breath, “the only thing I have to show for the last three years.”

“That’s not true,” Asami says. When he gives her a look, she relents. “Maybe it is, but why is that bad? I’m not his biggest fan, honestly. But if you care about him, that matters.”

Her eyes are way too knowing. Mako’s face heats up. “He’s really not that bad. You make him nervous,” he looks over at Korra with a little smile. 

“Me?” Korra looks up at him with a smirk. “Huh. That’s a new one.”

“No it’s not,” Asami snorts inelegantly. 

“I’m glad I’m back,” Korra says, and she’s looking at Asami when she says it.

Mako feels very much like he’s missing something. 

He walks them both to the front door when they finally drag themselves back up. Tu is bringing around one of the Satomobiles for them to drive back to the city. 

He shakes his head and meets Korra’s eyes. “I think we’re going to stay here for a few days. Lay low. This is the first time something like this has happened but I don’t think it’ll be the last.”

“That’s smart,” Korra says, nodding. Her lips twitch. “The last three years were building up to this for you. Keep the future king safe, Mako.” She cuffs him on the arm.

“Ow,” Mako grins at her, rubbing his arm. “You learn that from Toph? I need more stories, when we’re back.”

Korra shakes her head. “Not as interesting as you’re thinking. We’ll see you later.” She turns and walks to the car. 

Asami gives him a hug, holding him tight for a second. “See you soon.” Somehow, after all the dust and sweat of today, Asami still smells good. Mako shakes his head when she lets him go.

“Drive safe,” he tells them, and Korra raises her hand in a wave as Asami slips naturally into the driver’s seat. They exchange a little grin that Mako feels like he isn’t supposed to see, and then they’re gone, leaving only the hum of the engine and dust hanging in the air. 

A few early stars shine overhead, brighter out here. The first time Mako was here, he and Asami snuck up to the roof the first night to look at them. It was the most stars he remembers seeing at once, until he and Wu went to Ember Island. Mako watches the sun dip below the mountains edging the plains out here, sending the rest of the countryside into deepening shadow. He can just make out the dust cloud from the Satomobile winding away smaller and smaller on the road.

He’s still out there a few minutes later when he hears Wu’s voice from behind him. “Do you love her?”

Mako turns to see him silhouetted in the doorway, light shining around him, “What?”

A few dark bruises are developing on his skin, but he’s not dusty anymore, and he looks okay. Healthy. Safe, most importantly. Mako waves a hand for him to come over.

Wu takes a step out of the doorway, the light from inside the house shining at his back.

“Korra. Are you in love with her?” Wu asks again, and when he looks at Mako, his eyes give nothing away. 

“No,” Mako says quietly. “I’m not. I love her, but,” he shrugs, “not like that.”

He’s not even sure when it happened, but it’s true. Mako’s more caught up in why Wu’s asking, with his face as carefully blank as he can make it and his voice full of artificial air. He looks tired. Mako’s heart jumps into his throat and stays there.

“Good,” Wu breathes, shoulders relaxing slightly, padding a little closer to Mako. “Your family is nice.”

“I knew Grandma would like you.” Wu’s hair keeps getting caught in the breeze, brushing his cheek. He’s half in shadow, lit from one side by one of the windows and the half-open door spilling golden light all over the place. He’s breathing, and alive, and here. “Wu,” Mako starts. His voice is thick.

Wu looks back at him. “Mako?”

Mako reaches out and yanks him into a hug. Wu makes a noise, and then his arms are around Mako, holding onto him tightly. Mako buries his nose in Wu’s hair—he also still smells good, despite the dust and the dirt and the trunk he was shoved into—and curls his fingers into his jacket. A little too tight, maybe, but Wu’s safe, and it’s sinking in how close he came to not being that way because of Mako.

Wu’s hands are tight on his waist, his face pressed into Mako’s throat.

“I’m sorry,” Mako mumbles. “I should’ve gone with you.”

Wu mumbles something incoherent, fingers clutching at Mako’s uniform. “Yes,” Wu sighs, turning to rest his cheek on Mako’s chest. “You should have.”

> [ ](https://twitter.com/dippittydip/status/1298758078192668672?s=21)
> 
> _Safe Now, by[@dippitydip](https://twitter.com/dippittydip/status/1298758078192668672?s=21) / [@Kf1n3](https://twitter.com/Kf1n3)_

Mako makes a rough noise, his throat tight. “I was so worried. I—was being stupid, and I let that…”

“Are you still mad at me?” Wu interrupts him, voice small.

Mako blinks.

“What?” He pulls back just enough to look down at Wu, frowning. “For what?”

Wu meets his eyes, his face twisting in a grimace. “I dunno. Everything? Everything I did. Not being normal.”

For a second, Mako just stares at him, something curling up sharply in his chest. Wu’s eyes flick away again.

“No,” Mako says, quick and firm, his throat tight. “I’m not. Normal is—I wasn’t mad. About that.” he snorts and ducks his head, letting his forehead rest on Wu’s head for a second. 

“Oh,” Wu says quietly. “But you were. Mad. At me.”

Mako is an idiot. “No. I wasn’t. I mean, I was, but not… When did you think I was mad at you?”

Wu won’t look at him, his eyes on Mako’s chest. “I dunno. Since we… you know.”

Mako’s stomach goes tight. “Since you broke up with me.”

“Yeah. That,” Wu shifts back, his hands dropping off of Mako’s chest. Ridiculously, Mako misses the closeness as soon as he’s gone.

“I wasn’t mad at you,” he says after a moment, meeting Wu’s eyes. “I was frustrated. About a lot of things.”

Wu is quiet for a moment, searching Mako’s face. “I—that makes sense. But,” he sucks in a breath, looking out at the land around them, shadowed and gray. “That was a mistake.”

Mako frowns at him. “What, being frustrated?” 

“No. Breaking up with you,” Wu says quietly, “that was a mistake.”

“Oh.” Mako’s skin feels tight. His eyes are locked on Wu, whip-straight in his mussed, dusty suit. Mako couldn’t look away if he tried. “I should’ve… talked to you. I thought it was better. I wanted to think it was better. If we weren’t together. But that wasn’t true.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Wu agrees quietly. “Mako,” he frowns, hands flexing at his side like he wants to reach over and touch Mako.

Mako swallows and does it for him, reaching out to curl his fingers into Wu’s. “Why did you, then?”

Wu looks down at their hands, squeezing his fingers tightly. “I,” he starts, voice soft, “you were so mad. Frustrated. Because you had to look after me. I felt like, like you didn’t actually want me. The way that I want you.”

“So you just decided it was better to break up,” Mako finishes for him, soft, a little hoarse around the swirl of guilt and anger and hurt and relief. All of that makes it hard to think, and then his words hit him and he meets Wu’s eyes and goes on, “No, I—I get it. I think.”

“I told you, it was a mistake,” Wu breathes, swaying closer to Mako, “I was stupid. I should have talked to you, but I was too in my head. I’m sorry, Mako.”

Mako gives up and pushes himself off the column he was leaning on, stepping closer still, until he can feel Wu’s body heat in the cool air. “Yeah. Me too. I,” his heart is in his throat. “I’m sorry. That I made you think that. And that I got you kidnapped, it was—if something worse had happened to you…”

“It didn’t,” Wu says firmly. “It didn’t happen. It could have, but it didn’t. And we’re here now. So:” his lips flicker, “can we forgive each other?”

“Nothing to forgive,” Mako breathes, meeting his eyes. Wu holds his gaze, a tiny crease between his brows.

“Well,” Wu says, and Mako can see his body relaxing, letting go of the tension he must have been holding onto for months, “good. That’s good.”

“I mean it.” Somehow, the words are easy now, like the swirling fog that’s held his tongue for months is clearing. “You were stressed. With finals, and… us, and your coronation and everything after that.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Wu shakes his head, “but, thanks. For understanding me. I think you get me, Mako. That means a lot.”

“I have known you for two years,” Mako says with a tiny smile that he doesn’t quite feel. His stomach twists itself into knots over and over. 

Wu’s no better. He’s standing stiff in a way that was probably trained into him. Even if he was never prepared to take over the Earth Kingdom, he knows how to talk to people at parties and how to dress to make people think certain things about him. He’s better at expressing himself than Mako ever will be, even if that all flees when he’s nervous. Which he is, right now. Mako’s known him for two years, knows exactly what it looks like when Wu’s on-edge and uncertain: the set to his shoulders, the almost-desperate tightness of his hand in Mako’s.

Mako knows exactly what he needs to say, now. He just has to actually work up the courage to get it out.

“You said,” he starts, watching Wu’s lips part slightly as Mako squeezes his hand, “that breaking up was a mistake. You didn’t want to?” He doesn’t mean it to be a question but it comes out that way, full of breath and nerves. 

Wu shakes his head quickly. “No. I mean, I did. I thought I did. But I regretted it, almost immediately. I,” he sucks in a breath, “I don’t want to be broken up now.”

“Neither do I,” Mako says with something like relief cresting over the mess of feelings in his gut. He has the distinct feeling he’s smiling, and doesn’t do anything to stop it. “I want to be able to kiss you again.”

“Mako,” Wu breathes, staring at him for a long moment before he’s in Mako’s arms, his lips hard on Mako’s. He stumbles back into the column, Wu pressed against his chest with his hands in Mako’s hair. Mako wraps both arms around him and keeps him there, his heart racing.

His body is flush against Mako, so close and warm. Mako’s a little less desperate to get close to him, now, letting the desperation drag into slower, softer kisses until Wu’s hand is idly petting through his hair. It’s like he’s back on Ember Island all over again: everything is slow, and clear, the world narrowed to this tiny porch and Wu pressed up against him like it’s all that matters.

“Oh, my,” a voice says from behind them.

Mako jerks away from Wu, his face flaming, to see Grandma Yin narrowing her eyes at them both, a prim frown on her face and her wrinkled hand braced on the doorknob.

“Mako, there’s a whole big house here, and you’re keeping the prince outside! Come, your Highness. Let’s get you some real dinner.”

“Thank you, Grandma Yin,” Wu, flushed and breathless, bows formally to her, hand over hand, then shoots Mako a wide-eyed look. “Mako and I were just, just.”

“Don’t worry about that. I have 7 children and 10 grandchildren. I’ve seen it before.” Grandma Yin waves them both in, her hands landing on Wu’s shoulders. “You’re chilled! That’s no way to treat royalty,” she narrows her eyes at Mako, and he raises his hands in surrender, following them into the light of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😱it happen


	14. Book 2, Chapter 6

When Grandma said real dinner, she meant it.

Enough food is on the table to feed Kuvira’s entire army, but it’s just for Mako and the rest of the family and Wu, who’s been forcefully steered to the place of honor at the head of the table. Mako ended up on his right, and Grandma Yin on his left. She’s been waiting on Wu more or less hand and foot.

It’s kind of weird.

Or it would be, if Wu wasn’t getting along so well with Mako’s family. 

They’ve been collectively reminiscing about Ba Sing Se for the last half an hour while Mako tries not to think about Wu, and kissing him on the porch and all the things he still needs to figure out. Like the fact that Mako is still working for him, and that Wu is going to be ruling the Earth Kingdom eventually.

“Didn’t you never leave the Upper Ring?” Mako asks, a little too loudly, apparently, because half the family turns to look at him. He puts his hands up, frowning at them all. “What? It’s not like you’re from the same Ba Sing Se.”

“It’s still Ba Sing Se,” Grandma Yin sighs, a hand on Wu’s arm.

“…barely,” Mako says, but sinks back into his seat. Slowly, everyone stops looking at him, and Mako’s skin stops prickling. 

“I don’t know,” Chow says thoughtfully. He keeps touching Mako’s arm, too, and Mako kind of doesn’t blame him for that. He still can’t believe, even after three years, that there are this many people in the world related to him. “Sure, the Lower Ring was terrible and we barely made it by most days, but there’s just something about it!”

“The creepy surveillance of all the citizens?” Mako guesses, a little sourly. 

“No,” Chow frowns thoughtfully, “I don’t think it’s that.”

“The air smells different there,” Wu sighs, leaning on his hand. He’s eaten at least two people’s worth of food, eyes hazy and tired, but he’s smiling, seemingly completely at ease with Mako’s family. “It’s, it’s alive there.”

“Yes!” Meng-Meng agrees, flushing a little. She seems pretty taken with Wu already.

“Smells like garbage to me,” Mako mumbles, but he’s clearly not part of this conversation. His experiences with Ba Sing Se have all been terrible. 

But he supposes his experiences with Republic City aren’t much better, all things considered, and he’d probably say the same thing if someone forcibly moved him away from it.

“Not that, you know, we’re not grateful for all of this,” Chow Junior waves a hand around them, staring at Mako from across the table. “We really are. Really, really. It’s so nice. Did you know there’s a pool here? Inside! The building! A whole pool!”

“Yeah,” Mako agrees with a tiny smile. “It’s pretty wild.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tu pokes his head around his dad, his eyes wide. “You and Bolin lived here, right?”

“For a few days,” Mako says. “Until… you know. Everything with Hiroshi.”

“Riiiiight,” Tu’s eyes narrow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mako stifles a sigh. “Nevermind.”

Their cousin is a lot like Bolin.

Actually, the whole family is like Bolin. Maybe it’s an Earth Kingdom thing, to be able to just talk non-stop to everyone. Wu certainly has the same quality about him. The dining room—the formal dining room, Grandma Yin had proudly announced—is full of laughter and noise and family shouting over each other to be heard.

Mako remembers his mother more quietly. She was like him: saying more in the way she ran hands through their hair and corrected Mako’s pronunciation with a smile. Their dad was all about excessive compliments and telling Mako tearfully how proud he was after Mako managed to get good marks at school for the first time.

Mako is lost in his thoughts when Grandma Yin ushers everyone away from the table. Most of the family piles into one of the many sitting rooms in what’s clearly a normal ritual for them. Mako is about to follow them when he feels a hand on his shoulder. 

“About this pool,” Wu says in his ear.

He can hear the smile in Wu’s voice. A little frisson of heat runs along his skin as Wu’s lips brush against the nape of his neck.

Mako twists just a bit to face him. “What about it?”

“I want to see it,” Wu is standing so close to him. 

“Yeah, I bet,” Mako murmurs, smiling. He drops a hand into Wu’s, lets himself sort of be tugged up, except Wu doesn’t really put any weight behind it. Once he’s on his feet Mako almost steps back, but Wu’s looking up at him with a small smile on his face and heat in his eyes. And Mako can stay close. He dips his head instead, pushes a hard kiss against Wu’s lips. “Let me tell everyone goodnight.”

Wu makes a small noise and presses up into another kiss, staying close for a moment. “Okay.”

“Pool’s,” Mako waves a hand, “that way. I think.” He hesitates, looking over Wu’s face—the little freckles are out in even fuller force, now, probably from being out in the sun so long today—and kisses him one more time before he goes to tell his family that they’re going to bed. It’s like a compulsion. He can’t seem to stop.

It takes longer than he’d like, almost every member of his family giving him a tight hug. Grandma Yin holds him for what feels like an hour, her thin arms like a vice around his waist. “Take care of the Prince,” she tells him firmly when she finally lets him go.

“I… will,” Mako says, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels. He has the sinking feeling that it very much is. “You know we’re staying, right? You’ll see him tomorrow.”

Her gaze is hard even as she nods. “We will,” she finally smiles, “sleep well, Mako.”

“Good night, Mako!” The rest of his relatives chorus.

“You guys are kind of creepy,” Mako tells them, fighting a smile, and turns away before they can say anything about that. Hopefully Wu didn’t get lost in this massive house.

He’s probably used to it, though.

Wu is sitting at the edge of the pool with the lights off, his pants rolled up, shoes and jacket folded next to him so his feet can dangle in the water. He smiles up at Mako. “Took you long enough.”  
  
“This place is a maze,” Mako huffs, and shrugs out of his uniform jacket. He folds it up and drops down next to Wu. “Grandma Yin is ready to move to the palace to keep cooking for you.”  
  
Wu laughs and his head lolls to look at Mako. “I wouldn’t say no. Your grandma is aces.”  
  
“If you tell her you think that she’ll probably faint again,” Mako grins at him, nudging at Wu with his shoulder. “Everyone had to give me a personal goodnight before I could leave. Apparently.”

“They missed you,” Wu says softly. The light reflecting off the pool plays over Wu’s face. “I didn't know you had this many cousins.”

“Neither did I until three years ago,” Mako snorts. “They’re… a lot.”

Wu’s smile falls a little. “They’re nice.”

“They like you,” Mako says. His voice echoes off the tile under the soft lap of water against the edge of the pool. He shifts, tugging off his socks and rolling up his pants so he can drop his feet into the water, too. It’s cold against his skin, and usually he’d heat it up, but after the heat of the day, it’s kind of nice. 

“I like them,” Wu laughs, staring into the water. 

An odd silence falls between them. It’s not uncomfortable, per say, but it feels like something is in the air between them. Something unspoken.

Fuck it, Mako thinks, and drops his hand on top of Wu’s. “I don’t know how this works,” he says, haltingly. “With… you’re about to rule a whole country.”

Wu sucks in a breath, looking down at their hands. He turns his hand over and tangles their fingers together tightly. “I don’t either,” Wu says quietly. “It feels a lot more real now, after today.”

The blue light on his face shifts, shadows playing along his skin. Mako can’t look away. “Because you got kidnapped?”

Wu nods, “Yeah. I didn’t think that people would still hate me. I guess I should have.”

Mako squeezes his hand tighter. “I don’t think they hate you. I think it’s… they hate their circumstances, and Kuvira taught them to hate you. As the symbol of that.” He snorts. “It’s not like the crown has done much for the Earth Kingdom.”

“I guess they haven’t,” Wu says quietly. He shifts closer to Mako, resting his head on Mako’s shoulder. “I don’t think I like it. Being a symbol.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t either.” Wu’s head is heavy and warm and familiar. Mako shifts to make him more comfortable, releases his hand to drop an arm around him instead. That feels better. Something in him feels more settled with it, anyway. “I think,” he says, even more quietly, “I… forgot. That you were even going to be the Earth King.”

“I kind of did too,” Wu laughs, his hair brushing against Mako’s throat. Mako turns, presses a kiss against Wu’s head. His heart thuds hard into his ribs. Wu can probably hear it. 

“I forgot about a lot of things,” he murmurs. “When I said your coronation came out of nowhere, that’s what I meant.”

“You forgot…” Wu murmurs, then shifts up to look at him. “Huh. That’s… is that why? That’s when you got so weird. It was because I’m going to be the Earth King?”

“Something like that,” Mako mutters. His stomach goes tight. The surface of the water is smooth around their feet, almost touching underwater. 

He can’t just leave Wu with that, though. Mako knows that, even if the words are trapped behind his teeth and it feels like he’s pulling them out one by one. He really is terrible at this. “It was,” he says, slowly, “I didn’t think about what any of this meant. Until then. I was thinking the whole time about everything Asami was doing. Even Bolin thinks he’s helping people. I’m used to being the person who does things, not…”

“Babysitting?” Wu says lightly. When Mako looks at him, Wu is smiling a little. “I get it. This isn’t exciting. Well. Except today, I guess.”

“Yeah, I’m…. getting tired of exciting,” Mako says dryly. “The people I love being in mortal danger is getting old.”

Wu blinks at him, his face going slack. “Oh,” he breathes.

“What?” Mako asks, frowning until his own words hit him. His face floods with heat, even as Wu leans closer. “Uh. I mean. The people, I,” he meets Wu’s eyes for a second and then quickly looks away again, embarrassment curling through him. It isn’t that it’s wrong, exactly, but—”There are some people who are… important. To me.”

“Uh huh,” Wu’s lips flicker in a smile and he leans in very close to Mako. “I’m important to you.”

For a brief second, Mako contemplates throwing himself into the water. It would cool him off, at least, and get him out of this conversation, even though it’s already steaming up around his feet. He just kissed Wu a few hours ago. There’s so much there that he has to think through, and Mako barely knows what he wants this to be, and he can’t just be saying things like that out of nowhere like an idiot who doesn’t think things through. Mako’s supposed to be better than that.

But Wu is right here, and very close, his eyes green and bright and full of feeling.

Mako swallows, opens his mouth, closes it, and tries again. “Yes?” It comes out like a question. “Yes.” 

Wu’s eyes are on his. After a long moment, his expression softens. He presses in against Mako’s chest. “You’re important to me too.”

Mako tightens the arm around Wu’s shoulders, pulling him in. Wu can probably hear the too-fast beat of his heart. 

He should probaly clarify what he was trying to say. Mako swallows again. “What I meant,” he starts, and then groans at himself. 

“Was that,” Wu pushes on Mako’s chest. He’s very close. “I’m important to you,” he murmurs, and his lips brush Mako’s.

A weird amount of relief washes over Mako as he kisses Wu soft and slow, one hand sliding up into his hair. He’s smiling, stupidly, and can’t make himself stop. “You know something?”

“Hm?” Wu asks, nosing against his cheek, his lips brushing Mako’s skin. He doesn’t seem to want to let go of Mako, touching his arm, his hair, his chest, their legs plastered together, feet brushing in the pool.

Mako’s heart thuds into his ribs. “You get me, too.”

Wu’s quiet for a moment, fingers trailing down Mako’s throat. “Yeah. Yeah. I think I do.”

Not, Mako thinks, in a way that other people don’t. Korra and Bolin and Asami probably understand him, too, as terrifying as that thought is, sometimes. But Wu has a way of making things simple, clear where they were murky, and Mako isn’t used to that kind of clarity in his life. He doesn’t know what to do with it, except what’s front of him, like he’s always done: just keep going, and make sure things turn out alright.

Mako closes the scant inches between them, kissing him soundly. Wu grins into the kiss, his fingers sliding into Mako’s hair. He pushes Mako down, clambering onto Mako’s lap. 

He breaks the kiss because he’s grinning too much, laughter slipping past his lips.

Mako grins helplessly back, warmth curling up through him. He pushes another soft kiss against the corner of Wu’s laughing mouth. “What?”

Wu’s hand slides through Mako’s hair and he kisses Mako again, hard. “I just. I’m so happy. Mako,” he bites his lip, “I missed you. I missed this.”

“Yeah,” Mako says against his skin, dragging kisses along Wu’s jaw. “I did too.”

Wu kisses him again, his tongue slipping between Mako’s lips. Mako’s a little too aware of the echoing space around them, the tile hard and cold under his back, but it’s hard to think about anything but Wu’s mouth on his and the way he pushes himself into Mako’s hands.

Groaning, Mako gives up and drags his hand down over Wu’s ass, yanking him closer until they’re pressed flush. He has no idea how long they’re like that, but his breath is coming hard and fast and Wu is groaning against his lips by the time voices break through the heat settling over them.

Someone’s talking in the corridor by the pool—Grandma Yin, it sounds like. Mako jerks back, his face flaring with heat. “Upstairs,” he breathes, watching Wu’s eyes go dark.

Wu slips back off of him, grasping Mako’s hands. “Yeah. I want you on a bed.”

“Fuck,” Mako breathes, and scrambles to his feet, grabbing for their stuff. He pauses, then yanks it all into a bundle under one arm. “C’mon. I don’t want to get the shovel talk from Grandma. Pretty sure she’ll take your side.”

Laughing, Wu clings to Mako’s other side. “She will. Oh, Mako, I love your grandma.”

“You would,” Mako says as he tugs Wu against himself and heads for the stairs. Earlier, Grandma had brought them to some rooms in the eastern half of the house that she made ready for them. Who knows when she had the time to do that. “You’ve met my whole family, now.”

Wu grins up at him, looking so much more relaxed than he did just this morning. It helps that he’s only wearing a shirt and his pants are rolled up, but some of the tension is also gone from his face, and his smile is soft and easy. And he wants to be with Mako again. Just the thought makes Mako smile. “I did, and they’re wonderful. Well. Except the little detail that your brother hates me.”

“That,” Mako grimaces, and pushes his fingers down into the waistband of Wu’s pants, stroking over the skin as they stumble up the stairs. “We’ll… fix that. You’ll like him. When you’re not on opposite sides of a war.”

“I guess that’s as good a reason as any,” Wu sighs, leaning into his side. Mako tugs him down to the end of the hallway and through one of the doors into one of the ridiculously massive bedrooms. He drops all their clothes, ignoring Wu’s noise of protest in favor of pulling him into a kiss. Wu goes easily, hands running down Mako’s waist. “Mako,” he breathes between kisses, “yes, I want,” he groans and sways closer.

Mako reaches out behind himself to lock the door, shoving both hands under the soft fabric of Wu’s shirt to tug it up. Wu grins at him and pulls Mako back toward the bed. It’s a giant thing, like all the beds here, and so easy to press Wu down into the mattress, drag both hands along his skin until Mako gives in and kisses him again, hard and fast.

“Fuck,” Wu gasps, arching up under him. “Fuck, I almost forgot.”

“What’d you forget?” Mako breathes, and kisses him again before he can answer, giving in to all the heat that’s been building up in him. Wu groans and arches up against him, his cock pressing into Mako’s hip. They’re both a little clumsy and a little frantic, rocking together.

He knows what Wu forgot, he thinks. The heat of this, the desperation that only Wu seems to light up in him.

It’s been over a month. They’d been doing something like this almost every night, as constant a routine as any of the others. Mako got used to the feel of Wu’s skin under his hands. He drags his mouth away from Wu’s lips just to press sharp, biting kisses along his jaw, instead, dragging over his throat to make him gasp. 

“Can I,” he breathes, and shoves Wu’s hands up above his head, pushing his palm against Wu’s cock so that he rocks his hips forward.

“Yes,” Wu says immediately, his body once again pliant under Mako’s hands and lips. Like he wanted this the whole time, like his body is exhausted by the effort of holding himself together for the last month. “Yes, please, Mako.” 

His name on Wu’s lips like that makes Mako shudder. He lets Wu grind against his hand for a minute, feeling the familiar shape of him, so hard under the soft fabric, and then it’s too much and Mako, clumsy with want, tugs Wu’s pants down to his thighs and wraps a hand around him.

“Mine too,” he breathes, half an order that Wu scrambles to follow as Mako lets go of his hands.

“Yes,” Wu agrees breathlessly, pushing down the pants tangled around Mako’s legs. He has to stop kissing Mako to get his cock free, and he moans when he wraps his hand around it. “Mako, fuck. I want you.”

“Come here,” Mako bites at the curve of his shoulder, tugging at his ribs to get him to sit up. Wu complies with a sharp groan, but then he’s in Mako’s lap, kissing Mako again as their cocks drag together. All Mako can do is get a hand around them both. Wu’s barely moving on his own, now, just following the rhythm Mako sets, but he’s there, breathing hard and holding tight to Mako, filling up Mako’s space and his body and his mind.

Wu keeps chanting his name, small and desperate, into his skin, and Mako’s mind sticks on that, narrowing to breath and heat. Wu’s hand drops from Mako’s shoulder to the hand on them, fingers tangling with Mako’s as they rock together. Turning, Mako pushes a desperate, messy kiss against the pounding pulse under Wu’s jaw. He’s so close, and he knows Wu is close, knows exactly how Wu feels when he’s about to come, the little shudder in his hips and the way he leans into Mako like he can’t keep himself up anymore.

It really, really doesn’t last long. Mako comes with a sharp groan, and Wu tumbles right after him, and for a moment they just lean on each other, breathing hard.

“Mako,” Wu whispers into his throat, his body lying heavily on top of him.

“I missed that,” Mako says haltingly. He pushes his fingers into Wu’s hair, dragging lightly like he knows Wu loves. Wu sighs, nosing against his skin.

“Me too. I missed you,” Wu mumbles.

Mako stays in the room with him, and sleeps better that night than he has in over a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we had to give them a breath before, you know, the war
> 
> also: welcome back to the smut


	15. Book 2, Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during and after Season 4, Episode 8.

Mako doesn’t know exactly how he ends up telling Wu his entire dating history, but here they are: Wu, Tu, and Grandma Yin all staring at him with varying amounts of judgment in their eyes while Mako recounts his… frankly sort of spectacular relationship failures.

This was supposed to be about building Wu up and teaching him a bit of self-defense, not yanking Mako down.

It’s not that he hadn’t realized what a mess he made of things—he absolutely did, everything was horrible with Korra and Asami for a while there and apparently Mako hasn’t completely gotten over that—but it strikes him as he’s talking that he didn’t learn his lesson as well as he’d thought, because the exact same thing happened with Wu.

Maybe Mako really is afraid of disappointing people.

“But then I realized I had to realize who I was without a lady in my life.” He finishes, glad that there’s no more to say, except for everything with Wu. Who isn’t a lady, so technically he kept his promise to himself.

“I know what that's like,” Wu says lightly. Mako shoots him a look, but Wu bobs his head with a small smile. “I mean, to need distance from women, because I have so many all over me, all the time.”

Mako stares at him. 

Come to think of it, he doesn’t know whether that’s true or not. He assumed that Wu learned all of… everything, in college, but in all of Wu’s many stories about Ba Sing Se and school, Mako’s never heard him talk about dating anyone. He’s never mentioned another woman or man that he’s been with. If nothing else, Wu loves to brag. That makes Mako even more curious, but Grandma and Tu are still here. Mako keeps his questions to himself. For now.

“Anyway,” he says, a little too loudly, his eyes still on Wu’s sheepish face, “I eventually helped Korra defeat Zaheer and save the airbenders and we… did it as friends. Korra showed me the importance of putting others before myself. And whenever I think of her, she continues to inspire me.”

Wu stares at him for a long moment, something raw in his expression.

“Wow,” he breathes. Emotions flicker over his face too fast for Mako to catch. Wu pushes himself off the floor, standing to his full height and raising a finger. “That story is amazing and I really learned something.”

Mako blinks at him. He looks way too casual. “You did?” Pushing himself up, he watches Wu for a moment longer. “Good.” 

“Yeah, I learned that I really didn't know anything about you,” His eyes flick over Mako, a small frown creasing his brows. But then he seems to remember that they aren’t alone. “Crazy! Also, I realized that ladies are complicated. No offense, grandma.”

Grandma Yin smiles benevolently at him. Mako is pretty sure nothing Wu could do would offend her. “None taken.”

“I better just focus on being a better King,” Wu drops down into the fighting stance that Mako painstakingly taught him. It’s still not great, but at least he’s getting there. “Okay, come at me." Mako’s brows shoot up, but he gets into position, smiling. “I can take it.” 

He looks so determined, his brows pulled together and his mouth in a stubborn frown. Mako bites down on a wider smile and as gently as he can, jabs at Wu’s cheek. Wu flinches and drops dramatically to the ground, “ah! Wu down!”

Grandma Yin shoots Mako a dirty look as Mako sighs and offers him a hand. “C’mon. You can do better than that.”

Wu ducks his head, but lets Mako pull him back up. “It’s scary! You’re so much stronger than me!”

“You don’t even know that,” Mako says as he steps back from Wu, even though all he wants to do is kiss him. “You haven’t used your full strength. Try hitting me.” He meets Wu’s eyes. “I can definitely take it.”

Wu squints at him, pulls back his arm and lets a punch fly at Mako’s chest.

It’s not exactly painful, but it’s not nothing.

Mako grins down at him, catching his hand up and using it to pull Wu forward. “Nice. Do it again.”

Wu’s breath catches. He stares up at Mako, swaying against him. “Mako—you’re very solid.”

“Pro-bender,” Mako reminds him a little breathlessly, “remember?” His face is hot. And they still have an audience, he remembers, glancing over at the two of them.

Tu is staring, and Grandma Yin is smiling at them. “You didn’t tell us, Mako, how you and the Prince got together.”

“Uh.” Mako blinks.

He looks down at Wu, still braced against Mako’s chest, and raises his brows questioningly. It’s not just his story to tell. Grandma might have seen them kissing already, but Mako’s never been good at judging this kind of thing.

“Well,” Wu says, his hand slipping down into Mako’s, their gloves fitting awkwardly together. He smiles at Grandma Yin, “as you know, Mako has been my bodyguard for a few years now. At the beginning, it was just that: bodyguard, prince, a usual story. But then we grew closer, as friends. And then there was a spark,” Wu shoots Mako a smile, “Mako won me over with that sweet smile of his.”

“Okay, no, that’s definitely not it,” Mako says dryly. “There was no winning anyone over with anything. It just… kind of happened.”

“You don’t know that,” Wu narrows his eyes.

“Wait, you’re together?” Tu asks, blinking at them. “Like, you’re dating Prince Wu, Mako?”

Mako meets his eyes for a bare second and then glances away, his face flaming. “Uh. We’re not,” well, they sort of are dating, except they haven’t even talked about it in those terms, and Mako hasn’t taken Wu on a date.

Wu’s taken him on dates, though. Huh.

“Really,” Tu’s eyes scrunch up, his voice full of suspicion, “because it sure looks like—”

“Yes,” Mako hisses before he can get any further. “Yeah. Yes. We are. Context clues, Tu, come on.”

“Huh,” Tu stares for another minute, then grins. “Nice! That’s awesome. Wow, you’ve dated a lot of pretty important people, huh?”

“We’re done talking about it,” Mako’s voice comes out a bit strangled.

When he glances down, Wu’s face is that careful blankness that Mako hates so much. Slowly, Wu smiles one of his for-the-public smiles and looks back at Grandma and Tu. “That’s about all there is to it.”

Mako can’t get over the strangeness of it. He hates talking about this stuff on a good day, much less in front of Wu and Tu and his grandmother. He feels weirdly exposed, like they can see right down through him into all the ways he messed this up.

“Hang on,” Tu says, startling him from his thoughts. Mako looks up to see him watching them, his brows furrowed. “Does that mean Mako’s going to be the Earth King too?”

“Uh—”

“Now, don’t get too far ahead of yourself,” Wu laughs, but Mako can hear how fake that laugh is and see the strain on his face. 

“I think it’s very sweet,” Grandma Yin says, shifting to her feet. “I’m glad that the Prince likes our Mako quite this much.” 

“I’m glad he likes me this much,” Wu says softly.

“Okay,” Mako mumbles. It takes all his willpower not to push his face into his hand. He squeezes Wu’s hand instead. “We’re. Going to keep training. Thank you, Grandma, for the lemonade.”

“Thank you, Grandma!” Wu says, smiling as she pulls Tu with her out of the room. Tu keeps looking at them until he slips out the door. 

Mako lets out a slow, careful breath, shoving one hand up against his helmet. “Tu is… so much like Bolin.”

“At least he wasn’t upset,” Wu’s smile drops as soon as they’re alone. He steps away from Mako, his arms dangling limp by his sides.

Mako frowns, some of the tight-edged embarrassment uncoiling. He still kind of wants to sink into the floor, but at least it’s just Wu. Wu’s sort of already seen Mako at his worst, and apparently still likes him, which is... something. “Why would he be upset?”

Wu looks up at him, his expression guarded. “Some people in the Earth Kingdom aren’t okay with guys dating guys.”

Mako frowns down at the top his head. “How many people?”

“I dunno. Lots of people. Most of the people I knew,” Wu sighs and tries to fix his hair, but he still has his glove on. He ends up staring at the glove with a grimace. There’s something else there, Mako thinks. That he isn’t saying. Wu fidgets like that when something’s on his mind. He talks as much with his hands as with his mouth.

Maybe he’s feeling as exposed as Mako is, if it’s really so bad in the Earth Kingdom. He seems to want Mako’s family to like him (wants everyone to like him, really), and if he’s worried about that—

“Well,” Mako says after a moment, lifting his head enough to meet Wu’s eyes, “all your friends were from the Upper Ring. Maybe… it’s not as big of a deal everywhere else.”

“Maybe,” Wu concedes with a tight smile. His eyes flick over Mako’s face, “how did I not know all of that stuff about you?”

“You never asked,” Mako repeats quietly, but that isn’t strictly true. He grimaces. “And… I don’t talk about myself. Much.”

“I didn’t know to ask!” Wu grouses, "but I want to know, Mako. I want to know everything about you.”

Mako meets his eyes. “I don’t know, Wu. I don’t… you haven’t even managed to knock me down yet. You said you wanted to toughen up, right?”

“You said that,” Wu reminds him with narrowed eyes. “If you don’t want to tell me, fine. I guess if we’re not dating now, it doesn’t matter.”

“What?” Mako frowns, reaching up to tug his gloves back into place. They’re too tight on his hands. He kind of hates fighting with this much equipment. “Where did you get that idea?”

“You,” Wu breathes harshly. “You just said that!”

For a second all Mako can do is stare at him, his brows furrowed, trying to figure out what Wu could possibly be talking about.

“You,” he starts, when it hits him, and then shakes his head. “We can’t be dating. I haven’t even taken you on a date.”

Wu opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I took you on dates.”

“You didn’t tell me they were dates,” Mako protests. “I’m not saying I don’t want to date you, I just—” he cuts himself with a frustrated groan, shoving one hand up into his hair, except it bumps against the foam helmet. Mako scowls and tugs it off, his face hot. This isn’t at all what he’s trying to say, but it’s coming out wrong, and Wu is scowling at him and his entire family knows what a disaster Mako made of his own love life, probably, because Tu’s incapable of keeping his mouth shut for two seconds. 

“So what do you want?” Wu asks. He’s still glaring, but there’s less heat in it. He almost looks worried instead of upset.

He keeps asking that, Mako thinks. And Mako owes him a proper answer.

With a sigh, Mako lets his helmet drop to the mat. “What I want and what I think I can have are pretty different.”

Wu is quiet, carefully taking off his own gloves and helmet. He sets them down and sits on the mat before he responds. “I want to know both.”

His skin is sheened lightly with sweat from the very minor exertion and the heat, and his hair damp and curling at the ends from the helmet. Mako’s stomach does a strange little flip as he drops down opposite Wu. His own limbs are jerky and strange.

Wu meets his eyes, and for a second Mako is frozen, just watching him. 

Then he sucks in a breath and reaches out a hand, curling his palm over the sharp jut of Wu’s knee. 

“I want to date you,” he says quietly. The words come out easier than he thought they would. “I want to show you my parts of the city, and hear what you think about the food,” he snorts. “As ridiculous as it is when you do it.”

Wu’s lips flicker in a smile. “Why can’t you have that?”

“Because you’re going to be the Earth King, if we play our cards right,” Mako reminds him. He aims for dry and doesn’t quite manage it. He glances away, concentrating on the punching bag in the corner. It still has a little scorch mark on it from the last time he was here, when everything was simpler and he wasn’t actively involved in international politics.

“And you don’t want to date the Earth King,” Wu fills in, his voice even.

Mako frowns. “I don’t know how to date the Earth King.”

That quiet settles again, then Wu is on his knees, shifting over to Mako. His hands slide over Mako’s shoulders. “If you want to date me, we’ll figure it out. Earth King or not. I want to date you and,” he bites his lip, “I don’t want to give you up because I have to be the King.”

He looks so earnest, his eyes sweeping over Mako’s face, his hands warm and firm. Mako swallows around a rush of feeling and settles his hands at Wu’s hips. “Bo and I definitely don’t come from money. We lived on the streets for most of our lives. We were part of the Triads until Toza took us in.”

“So?” Wu raises an eyebrow at him. “I don’t see the problem here.”

He’s serious, Mako realizes. That arched brow, the utterly unconcerned look on his face—Mako shakes his head. “When you’d drag me to some party, I’d look around and think about how… pointless this all was. The kinds of problems those people have, I mean. Not being part of some social circle because your dress is wrong?” He sucks in a breath and continues as Wu’s brow draw together in confusion. “And you can be really oblivious to that stuff.”

“Uh…” Wu pulls back a little, sitting on his heels. “To, what? Are you saying I’m shallow? Because I know I can be vain, Mako, but if you don’t like that, then,” his eyes drop, his frown deepening.

“No—” Mako makes another frustrated sound, tugging at him. “That’s not my point. My point is, I… think we’re more similar. Than I thought we were. And I didn’t think I could talk to you about things like how I grew up.” He snorts, mostly at himself. “I was wrong. About that.”

Wu nods thoughtfully. He shifts, dropping to sit next to Mako, curling their hands together. “I didn’t grow up on the street,” Wu says, unnecessarily, “but I think I can understand. At least a little. I… it wasn’t all great for me either. I mean, you met my great-aunt,” he tries to smile but it comes out as a grimace. 

“Yeah.” Mako grimaces right back. “She was pretty awful.”

“But I’m not like her! I don’t care where you came from, Mako. I mean, I care because I care about you, but it doesn’t matter to me if you’re rich or poor or anything,” he grips Mako’s hand, “I want to talk about that, with you. I want to know more about you, even if it’s hard.”

“That was my point,” Mako says with something like relief winding through him, making his limbs soft. Wu has this way of saying things that Mako is thinking. “It wasn’t hard in the same way, but you… were kind of on your own.” 

“I’m not now,” Wu smiles, just a little, “now I have you.”

“And my entire family,” Mako says dryly, and flips his hand over to slide their fingers together. “Just try to keep Grandma away from the palace.”

“She is more than welcome,” Wu grins now and leans in close, his face inches from Mako’s. “So… we want to date each other. You, me, a nice dinner in the moonlight,” he narrows his eyes, “oh, wait, we already did that.”

“I get it,” Mako shoves at him, laughing. “We’re dating. We were dating.”

“Only if that’s what you want,” Wu says coyly, nudging Mako back and shifting to crawl half on top of him. “You do want to date me, right, Mako?”

“Nope,” Mako keeps his face as straight as possible, even as he lets his hands land on Wu’s hips again. “That’s why I let my family know about us. Not interested.”

“That’s not funny,” Wu glares at him, but that doesn’t stop him from leaning in to kiss Mako hard on the lips.

“Yes, Wu,” Mako mumbles against his mouth. “I want to date you.”

“Sorry? I don’t think I caught that,” Wu teases. 

Huffing, Mako lifts his head just enough to meet Wu’s eyes. “Whenever this is over, and before you go back to Ba Sing Se, go on a date. With me. Somewhere.”

Wu smiles, warm and sincere. His hand slides along Mako’s jaw and he nods, saying, “I’d be honored.”

* * *

“Grandma,” Mako says as he’s chopping up more vegetables than he’s seen at once, “you really don’t have to do this. We can just have a small dinner.”

As soon as Mako let him free of the gym, Wu disappeared into the top half of the house to shower and “freshen up” which Mako’s learned could mean anything from “I need to wash my face and fix my hair” to “I’ll see you three hours from now smelling like flowers and citrus and you won’t have any idea what I was doing that whole time.”

“Nonsense,” Grandma Yin waves one wrinkled hand and goes back to the fish she’s expertly deboning. It’s almost as big as she is. “Prince Wu deserves only the best that I can make. Chop that garlic for me, dear.”

“He’s just a person, Grandma,” Mako reaches for the garlic and stops. There are at least ten heads of garlic sitting in a neat pyramid on the counter. “All of this?”

Grandma smiles. “Yes, please. Fine as you can, and then put it in the pestle so Tu can crush it.” Mako shakes his head, but does as she asks, mincing the garlic while Chow teases his wife about the way she’s cutting vegetables.

Mako’s gotten about halfway through the pile, enjoying the chatter of his family without having to add anything, when Wu walks in. 

He looks relaxed and sort of gorgeous, wearing just a shirt and slacks that are a bit too big for him, his feet bare. His hair isn’t even gelled down, curling up everywhere, and smiles when he sees Mako.

His smile grows as his eyes flick over Mako’s face. Which is hot. Again. 

“Your Highness,” Grandma Yin says, breaking into Mako’s thoughts, “have you recovered?”

“Yes, Grandma. Thanks,” Wu smiles at her, taking her arm in his. He only looks away from Mako. to smile down at her. “Mako wasn’t too hard on me.”

“Oh! Good,” she looks a little faint to have the Prince of the Earth Kingdom touching her so casually. “I’m afraid that dinner won’t be ready for a while yet.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Wu glances over at Mako, his expression soft. “I can help.”

Mako meets his eyes for a second. Heat and want and something else, softer, jolt through him. “Uh.” Helping. Mako picks up his knife again. “Yeah. He’s great at,” Wu’s eyes are still on him. Mako swears half the family is looking at him right now, “chopping scallions.”

“The Prince doesn’t need to chop scallions,” Grandma Yin chides, but Wu shakes his head and steps over to Mako.

“Are there scallions to chop?” Wu asks, biting his lip. Mako remembers after a moment to meet Wu’s eyes instead of just staring at his mouth.

“There are cabbages,” he says after a moment. He wants to—tug Wu close, or something, push his nose into his hair, but Mako is entirely too aware of everyone around them, and Wu’s words earlier about Earth Kingdom traditions stick like burrs in his head. He grabs another head of garlic and slams the pommel of the knife into it, scattering the cloves across the cutting board.

“A Prince, helping us cook,” Chow laughs, “never thought I’d see the day.”

“Times have changed,” Wu says simply. “I don’t think that my reign will look much like my Aunt’s.”

His voice is casual, but Mako glances up sharply anyway, lifting his brows. Wu talks like he’s thought about it.

“I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful King,” Grandma Yin says, “as wonderful as the late Queen. May her soul rest in peace.” She turns and bows to a picture of Queen Hou-Ting above the door to the dining room that Mako definitely hadn’t noticed before.

“Oh, no, Grandma,” Wu laughs, but his eyes go wide at the picture. “Auntie was never very wonderful. I’ve been studying the history of our Kingdom and I’m not convinced that any of my ancestors really did right by the people, at least since the constitution changed with the 46th Earth King.”

“Uh-oh,” Chow mutters, as Grandma Yin narrows her eyes and Mako stares at the side of his head. He isn’t even sure why he’s surprised. Wu keeps coming out with things like that. He’s been reading so much about his kingdom’s history.

“Now, Your Highness, I’m sure you’re mistaken. She had a right—”

“Tu!” Mako interrupts a little too quickly, his voice sharp. “Cabbages. Over here.”

Tu shoots him an annoyed look but throws them at Mako’s head hard enough that he has to jerk back to catch them both. Mako glares right back as he drops them onto the counter in front of Wu.

“Just,” Mako shifts between Wu and his grandmother, entirely too aware of how close they are, “slice them up. Like the lettuce.”

“Right. I definitely remember that,” Wu shoots him a grateful smile, even if his eyes flick to Grandma Yin, whose narrowed eyes are fixed on him.

“So, mom,” Chow says loudly, “I’m excited for these dumplings. Fit for a King, huh?”

That seems to distract her enough that Mako can relax just a little, turning to make sure that Wu doesn’t chop his finger off or something. At least it seems like he remembers what Mako taught him because he cuts the cabbage in neat slices.

Even if Mako keeps getting distracted. Which is ridiculous: he’s used to working side-by-side with Wu like this, used to the casual brush of his hips and the sound of his laughter as the teasing starts back up again, this time on Tu for his terrible aim. 

Mako swallows at a burst of laughter all around him and focuses again on his task. There’s so much noise in this small space. In this house, really, in a way that wasn’t true when it was him and Bolin and Asami. Their—his—family fills up the crevices, spilling out of the kitchen and weaving back in to ferry ingredients and finished dishes, directed by Mako’s grandma with the ease of a commander. 

Even Wu seems to fit right in, helping Liling stir a sauce while Meng-Meng leans on her elbows and chatters at Wu about all the stories she’s writing and how well she’s doing in school.

People keep bumping into Mako. 

“Sorry,” he mutters to one of his cousins, and scoots to the side only to accidentally nudge into Big Yi, who almost drops the sauce he was carrying. Frowning hard, Mako glances up just in time to see Wu flash Liling one of his bright, easy grins, pressing dimples into his cheeks.

“Mako!” Grandma Yin’s voice, somehow, cuts through the noise. She’s still wearing his dad’s scarf, even in the heat of the kitchen. “Where are you going?”

“I.” Mako sidesteps another cousin, heading at the doors leading out into the darkened garden that his grandma has made her own. “I need some air.”

She says something in response, but Mako doesn’t even register it, too focused on getting outside and away. The silence that falls when the doors shut behind him is a relief.

He’s alone with his thoughts for a few minutes, letting the quiet and the solitude sink in, before Mako hears the door open and shut quietly. A hand lands lightly on his arm. Awareness prickles along Mako’s skin. He knows it’s Wu without even looking, because he smells like the fancy soaps that he likes, even here.

Mako shifts just enough to look at him, silhouetted in the dark by the light spilling from the kitchen.

“Guess your Grandma doesn’t want to adopt me anymore,” Wu jokes softly.

Mako smiles despite himself. Some the tension bleeds from his shoulders. “I have enough cousins as it is.”

“Well, then I’d technically be your uncle,” his lips flicker, hand slipping down into Mako’s.

“Wu.” Groaning, Mako laces their fingers together. Wu laughs and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Well, as not-your-uncle, are you okay? You dodged right outta there.”

“Fine,” Mako says, out of habit more than anything, and glances down. Wu’s giving him a flat, disbelieving sort of look. Mako doesn’t blame him. “Everyone noticed.” He wishes it was a question.

Wu shrugs a shoulder. “It’s okay. I think they get it. They’re loud, and there’s a lot of them. Kinda hard after it’s been just you and me for so long, huh?”

“Yeah,” Mako agrees quietly, a little surprised. He doesn’t even mean to continue, but the words slips out of his mouth before he can stop them. “I don’t know how to be around them. Sometimes.”

“Family is hard,” Wu agrees, leaning back on the wall of the manor. It feels a bit like last night: Wu bathed in the light of the setting sun, but now things are different. Now they’re together again, they’re holding hands, now Wu still likes him. “I was never great at being with my family. They were a lot, but not like your family is a lot. Their personalities were just so big, and everyone wanted to be the one in charge. It was hard to get a word in.”

“That… explains a lot about you,” Mako leans next to him, keeping their hands tangled together. It’s nice just to touch him like this, Mako’s thumb trailing circles along the side of Wu’s hand. “How did you manage? To talk to them?”

Wu’s is quiet for a second. “I didn’t, too much. I know that doesn’t help,” he gives Mako a small smile, “but your family is different. I don’t think they mind you being quiet. They’re loud enough as it is.”

“Bolin just… clicked with them,” Mako says slowly. “As soon as we sat down, he was talking like he’d known them for years. I get it. He’s always had this idea that we had a family out there somewhere. Wanted to go look for them. He used to tell me what he thought they’d be like.”

“Was he right?” Wu asks softly.

Mako snorts. “Actually? Yeah. Spot on about Grandma. And Tu, somehow.”

Wu laughs, loud in the quiet night, and squeezes Mako’s hand tightly. Slowly his laughter dies away and he says, “at least you have them. And they love you. That’s… that’s something.”

Mako’s stomach flips neatly over. “Yeah. It’s a lot more than something.” He hesitates, then sighs and uses their joined hands to tug Wu closer until they’re pressed together all along one side. “Think they’re done yet? Grandma’s gonna need help with that giant fish.”

“We can go help,” Wu says, then grins at him, “I mean, you can go help. I’m not touching that fish until it’s cooked.”

* * *

They’re just cleaning up from breakfast the next morning—which Mako had to physically bar Grandma Yin from helping with—when Tu pokes his head into the kitchen. “Prince Wu! Phone for you. Says it’s important.”

Wu blinks from where he’s perched on the counter next to Mako. “Oh. Who is it?”

Tu’s eyes narrow in an expression that’s almost painfully familiar. Mako groans and hands the plate he just rinsed to Wu so he can dry it off. “You didn’t ask,” he says before Tu can say anything else.

Tu grins sheepishly. “He sounded important and kind of angry and told me to go find the Prince and that it was urgent, or something.”

Wu sets the plate down with a sigh and hops off the counter. “I knew this couldn't last forever,” he says wistfully, sauntering out of the kitchen.

“That would’ve been nice,” Mako mumbles, and pushes some heat through his hand to make the sink full of water hotter. He’s ridiculously curious about who this could be, but Wu will tell him. Mako wants to finish the dishes first.

Tu watches him, hovering in the doorway. “So,” he says and, again, he seems so much like Bolin, “you’re pretty important, huh?”

“Come dry these if you’re gonna stand there,” Mako waves a hand at him. “I’m not that important. I just… hang around important people. I guess.”

Tu grabs the towel and starts helping him dry dishes. “Yeah! But that’s pretty important. And you and the Prince, huh?”

“Do we have to talk about this?” Water splashes up as Mako scrubs at a particularly hard bit of egg. 

“No,” Tu says, but shoots him a smile. “Yes. I want to know.”

Mako suppresses a groan. “What do you want to know? We’re together. I’m his bodyguard, still.”

“I dunno,” Tu says, “do you do all the, like, royal stuff?”

“…royal stuff,” Mako repeats, glancing at him. Tu’s trying not to look interested and failing. His whole family are terrible gossips, apparently, and Mako isn’t surprised at all. “No, actually. We don’t talk about it that much.”

“About him being royal?” Tu asks with a frown. “Why not?”

Mako blinks down at the suds. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. You don’t just… date the Earth King.”

“But that’s what you’re doing,” Tu says slowly. 

“He’s not the Earth King yet!” Mako snaps. Steam curls up under his hands. He scowls at the water.

“O-kay,” Tu says, and opens his mouth to say something else when Wu walks back in.

“We have to go back to the city,” Wu announces. “Raiko wants me at a meeting.”

Mako tries to ignore the way his stomach drops at the words. “How soon?” 

“This afternoon,” Wu sighs, flicking his hair out of his face. He drops back against the counter, crossing his arms. “I wish we could’ve had a little longer.”

“Aw,” Tu slings an arm around Wu’s shoulder, “Grandma’s gonna miss you.”

“Not as much as I’ll miss her,” Wu pulls Tu into a hug, squeezing him tight. Tu actually sniffles a bit.

His eyes are watery when he finally lets Wu go. “Oh, man, don’t tell Grandma, but you’re way cooler than your Great-Aunt.”

Wu stares at him for a second, then breaks into a grin. “I’d hope so,” he says, then drops to a whisper, “between us, she was incredibly not-cool.”

Tu nods solemnly. “Gonna miss you, Your Highness.”

“Okay,” Mako says dryly. “We need to leave if we’re going to make it back in time.”

Wu meets his eyes, and smiles a little. “Go say bye to your family. I’ll pack up.”

Mako grins back. “No suitcases to haul around this time.”

Wu settles him with a glare and turns with a huff. “See, Tu? This is what I have to deal with.”

“You’re not related to him, at least,” Tu flashes Mako a grin, which is great, because he doesn’t have time to dodge the splash of water Mako flings his way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay... a little more fluff... and THEN the war.


	16. Book 2, Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during season 4, episode 9!

Mako should really have expected things to go wrong as soon as they got back to the city.

The drive back is nice, despite his growing sense of dread. They keep the top down, letting the sun wash over them warm and bright. Wu belts his way through every song that comes on the radio, half-making up his own lyrics to turn the songs into ridiculous ballads about Mako or Grandma or Korra. Mako can’t stop himself from laughing, and Wu flashes him smug little grins even though Mako tells him not to quit his day job: he’s a better prince than he is a singer.

They’re late to the meeting, though, and all of Wu’s laughing swagger disappears as he sinks into his stiff chair among the other world leaders. His discomfort is obvious, at least to Mako, although the others look a lot more stressed than Wu does on the surface. They can’t agree on anything, and all of them ignore Wu’s attempts to break through the tension in the room.

It’s just par for the course at this point that Korra barges in like Korra does, followed shortly by—much to Mako’s sharp relief—Bolin, covered in mud and looking terrible. Trust him to bring crucial, top-secret info covered in mud and sticks.

Thankfully, all Mako has to do is meet Wu’s eyes and raise his eyebrows, looking to the open doors where Bolin disappeared. 

Wu waves a hand, mouthing something that might be “Go get him!” or “Forget me” or “Orange juice” for all Mako cares. He runs after Bolin and Korra with his heart in his throat, and then everything falls apart. Mako barely remembers to tug Beifong aside and ask her to get someone to stick with Wu for a few hours before he runs after Korra to help however he can.

He doesn’t mean to be gone all day.

But he can’t let Korra face Zaheer alone.

At least now Mako understands why she was gone for so long. Why she felt she had to be.

If she was really holding onto everything Zaheer did to her for all this time—trying to do the same thing she always does, and fix it all on her own, no matter how many times Mako tells her that he’s here for her—then he can understand why she stayed away. Korra’s as stubborn as he is, and with a deeper need to prove herself than anyone Mako’s met.

She could have died. Somewhere in the middle of the Earth Kingdom, alone, and Mako only would’ve known when some Earth Kingdom kid started sneezing fire. The idea circles Mako relentlessly as he winds through the streets back toward the hotel. It’s already dark—it took him longer than he thought it would—and the city is still hot from the summer sun, wavering in the air. Mako can feel the echo of it baked into the pavement. He can always feel the sun, a little bit. 

Korra didn’t die. But she didn’t write, either. Mako still doesn’t know what to do with that.

In the end, it wasn’t Mako who she needed. It was Asami. He’s still trying to make the thought not sting. At least she didn’t push away his help, today. That’s something. 

Mako pushes the door of their suite open with a strange sense of relief. Like he’s home.

“Took you long enough!” Wu snaps his book shut, peering over the back of the couch. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

Mako’s breath catches a bit. Wu looks ridiculous with his face half-obscured by the couch, his eyes narrowed, his hair much less put-together than it was at the meeting earlier. He lets the door fall shut behind him. “There’s dinner?”

“I ordered it a while ago,” Wu says, pushing himself up. His jacket is off and his sleeves are pushed up. He was never this relaxed before, even in their suite. “Got your favorite.”

Mako doesn’t bother to hide his smile. He toes off his shoes, pads over just as Wu stands up and leans over the couch to kiss him. He intends it to be short, because his stomach is hollow with hunger and he’s exhausted, but it doesn’t stay that way. When he finally pulls back from Wu, he can feel the heat in his own cheeks. “Thank you. Sorry I was gone so long.”

“Is it bad that I missed you?” Wu breathes, hands curling in Mako’s jacket.

Mako sucks in a little breath and leans down to kiss him again. “I don’t think we’ve been apart in two years, so.”

“Wow. Yeah. You’re right,” Wu laughs and hops over the back of the couch, tugging Mako toward the kitchen. “So what happened? How’s Bolin?”

“Gone again.” Mako pulls Wu’s chair out for him out of sheer force of habit. “He’s supposed to be staying on Air Temple Island but when Korra and I got back, he was nowhere.”

“He didn’t… go back, right?” Wu grimaces, dropping down into the chair with a little “thanks.”

“Better not have,” Mako mutters as he goes to pull down plates and silverware for them. “I don’t think so. He apologized for being an idiot. Seemed like Opal would barely talk to him. I would’ve asked, but then something happened with the Spirit Wilds—” Mako huffs and drops into the chair next to Wu. “Today was a lot.” Somehow, Mako hadn’t realized that he hasn’t eaten anything since their packed lunch eaten on the way back to the city.

“Huh,” Wu contemplates him as he pulls the silver covers off their food, a strange expression on his face. He voice is light, careful, when he says: “Your life is a lot more exciting when Korra is around.”

“Yeah, I’m realizing that,” Mako says dryly. “She is the Avatar, I guess.”

“I guess,” Wu repeats with a thin laugh, “‘future King’ has to be second-best to something.”

Wu’s plate is still full. Usually by now he’s started eating, but he’s just looking at Mako with that strained little smile.

Mako frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Wu says lightly, looking away from him. Then he takes a deep breath. “I thought you spent the day with Bolin.”

“I had to help Korra save Jinora and the others,” Mako says quietly, watching Wu’s face. 

“Yeah. And that’s great,” Wu’s words don’t match the way his shoulders hunch, the way he pushes his food around on his plate.

Mako drops his chopsticks, frowning hard. “What’s going on with you?”

“I,” Wu fiddles with his chopsticks before looking back up at Mako. “You left me alone all day. To be with Korra.”

“Beifong’s people were with you,” Mako says around the little flare of guilt and worry. She said she’d take care of it, and that she wouldn’t leave Wu alone. “Right? They were outside when I got back.”

“Yes, they were,” Wu says slowly. He’s quiet for moment before he says, “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to take that, Mako. She shows up again and twice, you leave me. It, it,” he presses his fingers to his temples.

Mako sits up straighter, his chair scraping on the tile. “It’s what? She’s my friend. I wasn’t going to let her face Zaheer alone.”

“And that’s fine! I get it! But you didn’t even tell me,” Wu says, his face crumpling. His body slumps in his chair and he drops the chopsticks on the table with a clatter.

“You were in the middle of a meeting, and Jinora was trapped in the Spirit World!” Mako snaps, his voice bouncing off the tile. “We didn’t exactly have time to run back in and ask for your permission.”

“That’s not,” Wu sucks in a breath, his hand clenching into a fist. “You don’t need my permission, Mako, but you should tell me these things!”

Mako opens his mouth and snaps it shut again, anger surging under his skin, except he knows where this goes. This ends in Korra tossing a desk at him, and Wu throwing himself at people in clubs.

He swallows unsteadily, his jaw tight. “Okay. Fine. I should have. But that’s not what this is about.”

“No,” Wu agrees, voice tense but quiet. After a moment, he looks away with a sigh, “it’s about Korra. You love her so much, and it just feels like, like I can’t compare to her. I’m gonna,” he shifts to his feet and pushes back his chair.

“Don’t,” Mako says, a little too sharp, already jolting up after him. “Wu. That’s not—what makes you think that?”

“Why wouldn’t I think that?” Wu asks, but he doesn’t move, staying put with his hands on the table.

“It isn’t.” Wu’s cheeks are flushed with feeling, his eyes downcast, and Mako sucks in a steadying breath. He tries to keep the simmering anger out of his voice, to keep his tone even, but he just ends up biting out his words, his eyes fixed on Wu. “We’re not like that. We didn’t work.”

“But you’re still choosing her,” Wu mutters. Mako’s face twists, his hand curling up before he can stop them, pressing hard into the chair. 

“I help her one time and that’s what you think?”

“Twice,” Wu corrects dully.

“Don’t you think,” Mako bites out, “we have bigger things to worry about right now? Your kingdom, maybe?”

Wu starts to argue, then snaps his mouth shut. He turns on his heel and says in a tight voice, “I’m gonna take a bath.”

“Wu,” Mako starts after him, but Wu’s already skirting around the couch, his shoulders stiff.

He didn’t even eat his food.

“Fine,” Mako drops back into his chair, scowling at the mess of noodles. It isn’t even that good, over-salted and textureless, but Mako barely tastes it after the first few bites, his mind whirling around Wu’s crumpled face and the determination in Korra’s eyes when she’d taken that elevator down.

She was gone for so long, and Mako was so worried. Not helping her was never an option: Mako made a promise to himself, years ago, that no matter what Korra needed from him, he’d be there. She’s his best friend, the person who made it clear that Mako couldn’t keep living the way he was with only enough space in his heart for Bolin. 

Maybe he’s just terrible at this. Mako drops his chopsticks with a frustrated groan, shoving both hands into his hair. “Why does this keep happening?” 

The table doesn’t answer him. The soft splash of water drifts through the suite, making Mako’s jaw clench. Wu takes a bath whenever he’s had a stressful day. The bar for stressful is different these days, but apparently the solution is the same.

He gets it, is the thing. Mako is Wu’s bodyguard, whatever else they are, and that means he can’t just run off in the middle of the day to do something else. Especially when they’re supposed to be shoring up Republic City’s defenses. When there are people everywhere who’d be thrilled to remove Wu from the picture entirely.

Stifling a sigh, Mako pushes himself back to his feet. He grabs Wu’s plate, his mouth set, his head spinning, and heads for the bathroom. 

When he pushes the door silently open, he sees Wu lying there in the bath, steam rising around his thin limbs. His eyes are closed, but there’s a little wrinkle between his eyebrows. He doesn’t seem to notice Mako until Mako has dropped down onto the edge of the tub, the plate balanced in one hand. He hesitates, then pushes it onto the vanity behind himself. Wu cracks an eye open.

“Yes?”

Mako probably should have figured out what he wanted to say before he came in here. He stares for a moment, his brow furrowed, his heart pounding. He has no idea what Wu’s thinking. He looks upset, and kind of like he’s trying not to look that way.

“You, uh.” Mako glances down at the shape of him under the water and then quickly away. “You didn’t eat.”

“So I’m supposed to eat in the bath?” Wu’s lips flicker in a smile.

“If that’s… what you want to do,” Mako says carefully. Wu is still watching him, and while he doesn’t look as upset anymore, Mako still feels sort of pinned. He sucks in one breath, and then another, and then says, slowly, “You know it’s not like that. With Korra.”

“I know,” Wu says softly. The water sloshes as he sits up, rivulets sliding down his thin chest. “Even though I know that, I guess I can’t help being a little jealous.”

Mako gets that more than he wishes he did. “There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

Wu’s eyes narrow and he crosses his arms over his chest. “I know that!”

“If.” Mako bites down on a frustrated noise, “Then why are you?” 

“It’s, it’s hard,” Wu says slowly, bringing his knees up to his chest. He looks so small, curled up and naked in the large tub. “You have this great family and these beautiful women you used to date. I’m used to having you all to myself, but now they’re…” He trails off with a sigh. “It’s stupid.”

“No,” Mako says quietly. “It’s not.” He pauses. “Well, it. Kind of is, but I get it.”

“But you’re right. There are bigger things to think about now, and I’m being selfish,” he sighs, resting his head on his knees.

“Hey,” Mako reaches out and curls a hand into Wu’s wet hair, frowning at the thin, tight line of his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to make you think that I was abandoning you for Korra. I’m not.”

Wu looks up at him with his wide green eyes. “It’s okay. I was just… surprised. It’s hard. When you’re my boyfriend, and my bodyguard.”

Mako can’t quite keep his face from twisting. “Yeah. Technically I work for you.”

“Technically,” Wu sighs and shifts up, fingers brushing Mako’s cheek. “We should probably talk about that, too.”

Mako blinks. “About what? You need a bodyguard. Now more than ever.”

“Yeah, but,” Wu grimaces, his hand dropping to Mako’s lap, “you don’t want to come with me to Ba Sing Se.”

Mako meets his eyes, wondering. “My whole life is here. Bolin just got back.”

“I have to go to Ba Sing Se,” Wu tells him, his hair falling limp over his forehead. Frowning, Mako slides closer, ignoring the water lapping up against his pants. 

“I know,” he pushes Wu’s hair back from his face. “It’s not gonna be easy. This. I mean.”

“No. And you can’t be my bodyguard if you’re not in Ba Sing Se,” Wu looks so serious about this. Like he’s actually considered their future together. 

“No,” Mako agrees quietly. “I can’t. You’ll need a real bodyguard by then, anyway. There are people who train their entire lives to do stuff like that.”

“Real bodyguards are so boring,” Wu says with a groan. “But you’re right. I will need someone who’s less… emotionally attached.”

Mako snorts despite himself, his face hot. “You did just call me your boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” Wu breathes, a smile growing on his lips, “my bodyguard boyfriend.”

Mako leans over to push a kiss against that smile, warmth curling through him like the sun. Wu’s hand lands on his thigh, wet and soaking through his pants, and Mako just curls a hand around his head to tug him closer still.

“At some point,” He mumbles against Wu’s lips, “you’ll have to meet Korra. For real. You’ll like her.”

“I bet I will,” Wu’s smiling now, a real smile. He’s dripping water on Mako, but he can’t bring himself to care. Biting his lip, Wu adds, “you could join me.”

“You haven’t eaten yet,” Mako breathes.

“And that means I can’t have a bath with my boyfriend?” Wu asks, fingers curling behind Mako’s neck. He leans back with a flicker of a smile and stretches out, long limbs and dark skin wavering under the shifting water. Mako stares at him for a beat too long, his lips parted silently.

“…that seems inconvenient,” he says as Wu’s smile takes on a teasing edge, his hands already going to the buttons on his uniform. Maybe this argument isn’t completely settled, but at least Wu is looking at him like that. At least Wu still wants him around.

“Why?” Wu asks with a laugh, focused on Mako’s hands stripping off his clothes.

“Because,” Mako tugs his undershirt off, letting it drop with the rest of his things behind him, “this tub isn’t that big,” he pauses at the button of his stiff pants, “and it’s kind of a waste of water.”

“I’m already using the water,” Wu points out. He reaches out and tugs at the button on Mako’s pants. “Before I got… jealous. I was thinking about the last time we had sex in the suite.”

“Jealous,” Mako repeats with a snort, and pushes himself up, letting Wu slide his pants down over his hips. “Tell me about it. What you were thinking about.”

Wu looks up at him, eyes darkening as he presses a kiss to Mako’s hip, over his thin boxers. “I was thinking about how you held me down on the bed. How good it felt, you fucking me like that.”

“Can’t do that,” Mako breathes as Wu’s fingers curl into the soft fabric and tug, “if we’re in a bathtub.” He slips into the water with Wu anyway, kicking the rest of his clothes away. The water rises almost to the top of the tub, and Mako has to tangle into Wu’s legs, but he’s hot and wet and leans up to kiss Mako as soon as they’re close enough.

“But you can do it later,” Wu breathes, shifting into Mako’s lap, fingers in his hair. Water splashes over the edge of the tub. Mako kisses him, dragging his palms down Wu’s wet skin. Wu has to know how important he is. 

The heat curls around them and Wu’s lips press lazily to his, his hands playing in Mako’s hair. 

Mako didn’t quite realize how much tension he was holding onto until his body lets go and lets him sink deeper into the tub. Wu pulls back to smile hazily at him. Mako can feel Wu’s cock against his thigh, half-hard already and flushed with heat.

“Should get clean,” Wu breathes.

“Oh, is that why I’m here?” Mako drags his tongue along the line of Wu’s throat, making him shiver. 

Wu groans, tugging lightly on his hair, “Like you said: it’s a waste. Better use it. Right?”

Mako’s teeth scrape along his skin. “You’re learning. Grab the soap, then.”

Wu narrows his eyes, but after a moment he does as Mako asks without commenting. He pushes the soap into Mako’s hand. 

Mako kisses him in thanks and, because Wu asked him to and because Mako wants to make him squirm, gets to work actually getting them both clean.

It ends in Wu laughing and pushing at him, soapsuds covering them both.

It feels different. Before, when they were together here in the suite, Mako was never sure where they stood, was never sure what he could do with Wu other than kiss him or fuck him or make him food. Now, he can tease him and push soapsuds against his cheek and duck when Wu tries to retaliate.

“Mako!” Wu hisses, holding onto his shoulders. “You’re so bad at this!”

“I’m not the one who keeps trying to get away,” Mako laughs, and drops his hand to the crease of Wu’s thigh, pulling soapy fingers along his skin. “You said you wanted to be clean.”

“And you keep,” Wu squirms, twisting away from him, “tickling me! Mako!”

Grinning, Mako drops a hard kiss against a soap-free bit of Wu’s skin. “Stop being so ticklish when I’m trying to help,” he murmurs, and then drops his hands into the water to dump it over Wu’s soap-covered legs. It would’ve gotten cold a long time ago, but Mako keeps pushing heat into it.

“Okay, okay!” Wu laughs, “I’m clean! Well, except my hair, but you’re not doing that. I don’t trust you that much,” he shoots Mako a glare.

“What?” Mako raises his hands, dripping with water. “When do I get hair privileges?”

Wu hums, fingers trailing down Mako’s chest. “When you show me you’re responsible enough to handle it.”

“I can handle it,” Mako catches his hands and uses them to tug Wu closer, into a kiss. “I’m the most responsible person you know.”

“I dunno,” Wu breathes, leaning against him, “I know a lot of world leaders.”

Slowly, Mako reaches up, pressing his wet fingers to the nap of Wu’s neck, not quite in his hair. “And how do they stack up?” 

“I guess I wouldn’t want them touching my hair either,” Wu sighs, resting his cheek against Mako’s shoulder. “Mm… you make a good point.”

“I make a lot of good points,” Mako says dryly, and pushes his fingers along Wu’s scalp. 

“You can try it. I guess,” Wu murmurs.

“Yeah,” Mako pushes a kiss against the shell of his ear, “that’s what I thought.”

Wu melts under his hands as Mako massages shampoo into his hair. He seems to love it, making small, happy noises as Mako’s fingers press into his scalp.

“You like this,” Mako breathes against his skin. Wu’s head is braced on his shoulder, his body limp.

Mostly. He’s still half-hard, and shifting against Mako with tiny, breathless groans every now and then. Steam rises up around them—the water is a little hotter than Mako meant it to be—and fogs up the mirror, drifting around them in clouds.

“Rinse,” Mako says eventually, and reluctantly props Wu up to get his head under the tap. Wu turns on the water, letting it run over his face and hair. Coming up with a sigh, he wraps his arms around Mako’s shoulders.

“Okay. You did a good job.”

“Told you,” Mako breathes against his throat. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

Wu lets Mako pull him up, draping himself over Mako’s shoulders. “You’re pretty handy to have in a bath,” Wu tells him with a little grin.

“Yeah?” Mako breathes, tugging him close once they’re dripping on the fluffy bathmat. Wu is plastered against him, skin to skin, and Mako can’t make himself let go.

“Don’t think I didn’t catch you heating it,” Wu leans up to kiss him softly, his hand slipping down Mako’s chest to tease over his cock. “Maybe I should give you a little thank you, huh?”

“I didn’t do it so you’d have to thank me for it,” Mako mutters, his voice low and full of the heat blooming under his skin. His whole body thrums with want as Wu’s hand wraps around him, lazy and slow. “But if you want to, then,” he pushes Wu back a bit, “you said something about the bed.”

Wu’s eyes meet his and he grins, slow and full of matching heat. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Mako heats the air around them to dry them off so they don’t have to deal with towels, and then half-carries Wu down the hall. He either won’t or can’t walk on his own, lazy from Mako touching his hair so much. It’s even harder because Wu keeps running his hands over Mako’s body, over his cock and then away again, making Mako groan.

He shoves Wu into the covers just to get close to him, pushing him down like he asked and kissing him fierce and hot. 

It’s like they never argued tonight. Heat pulls at Mako, Wu grabs onto him, kisses him, his tongue pressing into Mako’s mouth, like he was never upset at all.

“Mako,” Wu groans when Mako presses biting kisses against his throat.

With a groan, Mako leans up to kiss him again, dragging both hands back down all that damp bare skin. “Did you,” he breathes, and wraps one hand around Wu’s cock, “put the oil back, after we moved back in?”

Wu gasps, thrusting hard into his hand. “Fuck, fuck—it’s still in a bag,” Wu groans, his head dropping to one side. “Uh, the small bag.” The bag Wu must not have unpacked from when Kuvira kicked them out of their suite.

“Good,” Mako drops a hard kiss against his throat, feeling the already-wild pounding of his pulse. “Stay here,” he says, and then lifts his head and his hand, making Wu whine in his throat. With his own heart pounding, Mako continues, breathless, “keep your hand on yourself until I’m back.”

“You want me to,” Wu starts, and when Mako glances back at him, he’s grinning, his hand already slipping down to his cock. “Okay. I really didn’t know you had all this in you, Mako.”

Mako swallows, freezing as Wu’s thumb slides over the tip of his own cock, flushed dark. “Uh,” he glances up at Wu’s face, feeling his own go hot. “Neither did I,” he admits after a second, and bends to find the oil. “Just—going with it.”

“I like it,” Wu tells him softly. His eyes are soft, full of heat and want and affection, and Mako has to just stare at the long, gorgeous lines of him for a moment. 

“Probably a lot.” He shifts up, bottle in hand, and slides onto the bed between Wu’s sprawled legs, trailing his free hand up the length of his thigh. “Tell me what else you like.”

Wu’s eyes sweep over him and he bites his lip, “I like you,” he says as he strokes his own cock slowly.

“I got that, yeah,” Mako says with a tiny grin. He lets the oil spill over his fingers, too impatient to drag it out anymore. “What else d’you like?”

Wu sucks in a breath, letting his legs fall apart, “I like when you fuck me. I like sucking your cock,” his cheeks flush darker, hair curling as it dries on his forehead. Quieter, he adds, “I like when you tell me what to do.”

Mako can’t look away, even as he presses one finger against him to make Wu squirm. “You do, huh.” It’s not really a question, but Mako had wondered. Hearing him say it is something else entirely. 

Mako swallows and says, his eyes locked on Wu’s, “Hands up. On the headboard.” 

Nodding, Wu reaches up, fingers curling around the intricate wood, “You, you like that too?” He asks quietly.

Something in Mako is burning with it, which is enough of an answer for him. He pushes his finger into Wu slow enough to make him gasp impatiently, writhing under Mako’s hand. “Yeah. You just… do it. You don’t even,” he drags a palm along Wu’s cock, pressing it against his own belly, still watching him, caught in the arc of his body up out of the covers. “Yeah. I like it.”

Wu gasps and bucks up, his eyes fluttering shut. “Mako,” he moans, “good. Good. Now tell me how you want to fuck me.”

“Who’s calling the shots here?” Mako murmurs, and presses another finger into him, a little faster than he means to. Wu does this to him.

“Fuck,” Wu shifts down, taking Mako’s fingers deeper inside him, “fuck, Mako, you are. But,” his eyes flicker open and he flashes Mako a smile, “I know you want to fuck me.”

“I do,” Mako says low and breathless, “but unlike some people here, I have patience,” he glances up at Wu’s flushed, desperate face, the haze in his eyes, and wraps his lips around Wu’s leaking cock.

Wu gasps as his cock thrusts along Mako’s tongue, hot and heavy and familiar. “I’ll have patience,” he breathes, “when it hasn’t been a month and a half since we did this.” Mako enjoys teasing him but he has a point: it’s been a long time and Wu is rocking desperately on his fingers.

He drags it out just enough to make sure Wu is ready, until he’s writhing and wordless under Mako’s tongue, and only lifts his head when Wu makes a choked-off, desperate sort of sound.

“Mako, Mako,” Wu groans, hands sliding down his shoulders. “I need you.”

“Fuck,” Mako pushes a messy, wet kiss against Wu’s stomach and drags his lips up until he’s kissing Wu properly. Wu shifts under him, grasping Mako’s cock and pressing it against him. 

He pushes in slow and steady, dizzy with the heat of him, and Wu’s head falls back with a thin groan. “Yes, yes, Mako.”

Mako had meant to be slow about this too, but now that Wu is wrapped around him it’s like all that careful patience is gone. He wraps a hand around one of Wu’s wrists, the other around his thigh so he has some kind of leverage and drops his head, kissing Wu hard and fast. Wu thrusts his hips down onto Mako’s cock, taking him deeper, deeper, moaning thinly into the kiss.

Mako doesn’t even realize he’s talking until Wu gasps out his name in a shocked, breathless kind of way and tells him to keep saying things, and as much as Wu likes it when Mako tells him what to do, apparently, Mako just wants to make him feel good, wants him to know exactly how important he is, so he does. He tells Wu exactly how good he feels and how much he missed this, kissing the words into his skin.

Wu seems to like that too. His hips twitch, body going tight around Mako and he comes without Mako even touching his cock, spilling hot over his stomach. Mako kisses the breath out of him, panting against Wu’s lips, and Wu wraps himself around Mako, moaning his name against Mako’s mouth until Mako comes fast and hard. 

The collapse together in a sweaty pile, Wu’s long limbs draped around him, his face pressed into Mako’s throat.

After a long minute of just breathing, Wu mumbles, “I was such an idiot.”

Mako pushes a messy kiss against his temple. “Why?”

Wu nudges Mako off of him so he can sprawl half on top of him, his fingers petting back through Mako’s hair. “Because I do trust you. That you care about me, as much as you care about your friends.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Mako murmurs, frowning against his cheek. “But I do.”

“I’m sorry for getting jealous,” he sighs, nosing against his hair, “I think I’m just stressed out about the war. I never thought I’d have to deal with something like this. And I know you warned me,” he shoves gently at Mako.

“I get it,” Mako curls his palm around the back of Wu’s head, pressing his face as close as Mako can get him. “You… really weren’t prepared for this stuff, were you? All that fancy education, but.”

Wu shakes his head with a frown. “I wasn’t supposed to be the heir. Ever. There were like three people ahead of me until… you know.” At least this time he doesn’t act out his Aunt’s death.

Mako pushes a kiss against the side of his temple, his eyes pressed shut. “Even if you were, this isn’t something you can be prepared for.”

“Yeah,” Wu shifts to kiss his lips softly, “It’s not.”

“And I get,” Mako breathes, “that it’s weird. With Korra and Asami. I wish it wasn’t, but,” he snorts, flopping back into the pillows, and pushes his hand into Wu’s hair again. “That’s my own fault.”

“I dunno,” Wu crawls up to peer at him, “I’d probably get weird too if I had exes as powerful and beautiful as Korra and Asami. It’s kinda a lot to live up to.”

Mako feels soft, a little too open, like Wu can see right through him. He wants to look away, change the subject, but he makes himself meet Wu’s eyes. “It is. They’re incredible.” Wu’s smiling, just a little, that soft lopsided one that Mako doesn’t see very often. Mako stares at him for a moment. “Do… you like them?”

Wu’s brows shoot up, then he lets out a laugh, loud and unrestrained. “Me? Aw, Mako, are you jealous now?” He presses another kiss to Mako’s lips. “I mean, they’re amazing, and I admire them both, but I’ve figured out the kinda person I like. And it’s not beautiful, powerful women. At least, not in this kinda way.”

Mako huffs at him, swatting at Wu’s side even as Wu kisses him again. “I’m not jealous, but you do flirt with them. A lot.” 

“When we were broken up!” Wu protests with a laugh, “Mako, I’m not interested in Korra or Asami, or anyone else. I’m only interested in you.”

“Yeah, well.” Mako has the distinct feeling his face has gone red. He glances away, over Wu’s shoulder, fighting a smile. “Same.”

“Good,” Wu breathes, petting back through Mako’s hair, “I’m bad at sharing.”

Snorting, Mako meets his eyes again. “You’ll get used to it. I believe in you.”

Wu nods slowly before dropping his head into the crook of Mako’s neck, “Yeah. I will.”

After a moment, as Mako drags a palm idly down his back, tracing over the bumps of his spine, he adds, “You’re important to me, Mako,” in a voice almost too soft to be heard.

Mako’s heart thuds hard against his ribcage. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. “You’re important to me, too.”


	17. Book 2, Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during season 4, episode 10

“Nice job in there,” Mako says quietly as they walk out of Raiko’s office side-by-side. “I'm proud of you. You're starting to act like the kind of King I'd like to work for.” He’d been kind of worried about another meeting after the last useless one, but Wu really stepped up.

He and Wu are going to have to meet with Beifong, figure out how to actually make this citywide evacuation happen, but at least it’s going to happen, and that’s because of Wu. Republic City is building up its defenses, and Asami and Varrick’s machine seems promising, but Mako hasn’t been able to shake the feeling that they aren’t doing enough. Not if everything Varrick and Bolin said about that spirit ray are true, not with everyone underestimating Kuvira again and again.

“Thanks,” Wu smiles up at him. He looks invigorated by the whole thing. Like he’s ready to put being kidnapped behind him, like there’s something they can both do. Finally. 

Then Wu’s eyes flash in a way that Mako knows spells trouble. He leans up to stage-whisper in Mako’s ear, “and if _Korra_ buys this ‘Man of the People’ thing, I still might get to date her.” 

Mako has to bite down on his own laughter, trying to keep his voice as flat as possible. Wu has to know that his stupid jokes are the best way to pull Mako out of his own head. “You always have to ruin it.”

“What?” Wu laughs and claps Mako on the arm, squeezing his bicep, “come on! Why do you think guys do anything great? To pick up girls. Every work of art, every song, every city evacuation. All for the ladies.” Wu winks hugely at Mako before he walks off, waving his hand over his shoulder.

“Uh-huh,” Mako hurries after him, still trying not to laugh. “And what about people who don’t like ladies?” Like, Mako is pretty sure: Wu. 

“Everyone likes ladies,” Wu's eyes skate down Mako's body, giving him a once-over. When he meets Mako's eyes again, he asks, “what’s not to like?”

Mako can just see a dark mark on Wu’s throat that Mako accidentally left there last night. His face burns a bit. There’s no way Beifong won’t notice the hickey. She’s the most observant person Mako’s ever met. “But that’s not why you suggested it.”

Wu’s steps slow a little bit, so he’s walking almost next to Mako instead of two steps in front of him. “No,” his eyes flick over Mako’s face, “I’m just teasing you, Mako.”

Mako narrows his eyes. It’s such a battle to keep his face straight as he meets Wu’s eyes and says, as casually as he possibly can. “You know, I could set you two up. You and Korra. If you really wanted that.”

Wu’s eyes narrow. He steps in closer to Mako, keeping his voice even. “Yeah? You’d do that for me?”

“I’m just looking out for you,” Mako says with his most casual shrug, trying not to stare at that mark on Wu’s throat. He lets his fingers brush the edge of Wu’s hand as they head down the steps. 

“You’re such a great pal, Mako,” Wu squeezes his wrist for a just a moment before he lets go and speeds up to catch Beifong.

“Wu!” Mako hurries after him, catching his hand just before he reaches her. “Your, uh.” Beifong’s already turning around, her brows raised. Mako swallows, aware of her eyes on them, and tugs Wu’s collar and necktie back into place, just a little higher than they were before. “There.”

Wu’s eyes go wide for a second, then he grins and pats Mako on the shoulder. “Thanks, big guy. Can’t go around looking all mussed up, can I?”

Beifong looks mildly amused, which is about the full range of her emotional spectrum, as far as Mako has seen.

“You ever evacuated a city before, kid?” She asks, raising a brow as Mako steps back, trying to keep his face impassive. 

“Admittedly no. Have you?” Wu smiles up at her with that new, competent confidence that does some very interesting things to Mako. He keeps his eyes firmly fixed somewhere over Wu’s left shoulder, half on Beifong.

“Nope.” Her expression flattens. “We’ve got our work cut out for us. C’mon,” she waves a hand and turns without waiting for them to follow.

Mako blinks. “She likes you.”

Wu shoots him a surprised look, but that smile is still here. “Huh. Maybe I am going to be the kind of King you’d wanna work for.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Mako mutters, and bites down on a smile as Wu huffs and marches after Beifong.

* * *

Evacuating a city voluntarily is a lot easier said than done. They’re doing their best—well, Wu is, he’s doing all the talking and Mako is just kind of following him around looking intimidating—but there’s no incentive for people to leave. The report at the end of the first day is disappointing at best. Mako makes them dinner and listens to Wu’s frustration about people not listening to them tries to ignore the constant, sinking feeling that they should be doing more. There’s nothing else they can do. Mako knows that.

At least they don’t have to do it for long. 

Bolin and Su and Zhu Li burst into the middle of their meeting with Raiko. Mako wishes he was more shocked to find out that they only have two weeks until Kuvira’s army is in the city. At least now he’s not the only one worried.

The urgency with which they have to move afterwards, no matter how disastrously his attempt at putting out the announcement goes, is a lot easier than the waiting. Wu does it better. Of course he does: Wu’s at his best when he’s being honest. Mako doesn’t even protest when Wu nudges him aside and takes the microphone and makes everything so clear, so well that Mako can’t resist reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, even with Beifong right there. He’s so proud. It’s hard to contain.

A sort of ordered chaos settles over the police station afterwards, and Wu’s right at the center of it, huddled at a table with Beifong and Mako and most of the captains to put together a real evacuation plan. They’ve been here for hours already, and Mako’s body is starting to cramp from hunching over the maps of the city.

Wu’s good at it. Not the logistics part, but the other part that no one else seems to be thinking about: how to manage the messy chaos of human emotions during all of this. 

“Someone’s gonna have to be there, in the train station. People aren’t going to get on the right trains by themselves, they’re going to be panicking!” Wu shoots back at Beifong, who raises her eyebrows. No one talks to Beifong like that unless they’re the President or they’re related to her.

Mako half expects her to argue, because Beifong loves arguing, but she snorts, grins a bit, and says, “You volunteering, kiddo?”

“Yeah. Yeah, actually, I am,” Wu says, bracing his hands on the desk. “But I’m gonna need back up.”

“I’ll help,” Mako says quickly.

“Obviously,” Beifong snaps, and Mako feels the back of his neck get hot. “That was a given. We’ll need to be running people out every way we can think. Wu, you take the new Central Station. I’ll get people at every other checkpoint, but most people are gonna be on those trains.”

“Great. Yeah, Mako and I will get them to the right place,” Wu smiles at him for just a moment. “Okay, next thing we have to consider,” Wu goes on, somehow leading even Beifong through a few more scenarios he thinks might happen. It’s impressive to watch, and Mako clearly isn’t the only one who thinks so, because the room is quiet, everyone fixed on his words.

Like he’s a real world leader. Like he’s going to be okay when he has to actually assume the throne.

It eases something in Mako he didn’t fully know he was worried about.

Finally, the meeting breaks, and Beifong claps Mako on the shoulder after he’s stretched out the remaining kinks in his spine. “Got your work cut out for you.”

“We can do this,” Mako says firmly. “We’ll start tomorrow, Chief.”

“Get some rest,” Beifong tells them, stifling a yawn, and waves as she walks away. Wu yawns too, even though he tries to hide it behind his hand. All those impeccable manners. 

Mako grabs Wu’s wrist as he stands. “I know you’re tired,” Wu nods sleepily, “but I want to check on Bolin. You up for that?”

“Yeah,” Wu smiles. “But maybe invite him over? I’m starving, and you won’t let us go to a restaurant.”

“Because they’re not secure—” Mako starts, frowning, and stops when Wu flashes him a teasing grin. “…I’ll find out where he is. Wait here. In the station. Where it’s safe.”

“Fine,” Wu sighs, flicking his hair out of his face. “Don’t take too long! I could eat a mooselion.”

“You’ll survive,” Mako calls over his shoulder as he heads to one of the phones mounted on the wall. He’s not much better himself: they’ve been here for hours. Bolin ran off somewhere after the meeting, but Mako has a feeling he knows exactly where his brother is. He grins to himself when he’s right, even though he has to convince Ikki to go give Bolin the phone.

All it takes is the promise of feeding him to get Bolin to agree to come over. Mako snorts at him, tells him to hurry, and goes to get Wu before he faints from hunger or something.

Bolin’s already in the lobby waiting for them when they get home, and brightens up as soon as he sees Mako. He bolts for them, shouting Mako’s name too loud. His voice bounces off the marble and tile as he yanks Mako into a hard hug.

“Hey, bro,” Mako mumbles into his shoulder. Bolin squeezes until Mako can barely breathe, and Mako just wraps an arm around him and pulls him closer, trying not to think about Bolin getting too close to a superweapon. “You have to stop disappearing on me.”

“This was the last time. I promise,” Bolin sighs, holding him for another long, long minute before letting go. “I had to help Opal rescue her family! Trust me, Mako, it was the only way to get her to forgive me.” It’s about more than that, Mako thinks. There’s a tension to Bolin that he hasn’t seen before. He looks tired, and a little sad.

“You did good,” Mako tells him quietly. Bolin slumps just a bit. All he’s ever wanted was to do good. Mako hates that Kuvira used it against him. The list of things he wants to personally punch her for gets longer every day. “Tell me about it upstairs.” 

“Yeah. Upstairs,” Bolin shifts a little, glancing at Wu, who’s carefully looking away. “Uh, hi, Prince Wu.”

Wu smiles peaceably. “Hi, Bolin.”

Mako glances between the two of them, stifles a sigh, and goes to hit the elevator button. He’s conscious of everything on the way up: Bolin’s eyes flicking around the tiny space, Wu at his side, not too close but not far, either.

“So,” Bolin says. He’s always been even worse than Wu at silence, “you got your suite back.”

Wu glances over at him and Mako is afraid for a second about what he might say, but he just says lightly, “Yes, we did. Mako got tired of sleeping on a couch.”

“Not the worst place I’ve slept,” Mako says, and Bolin snorts.

“Yeah, I mean, a couch is way better than the ground. Or the a pile of trash, I guess. I really hated the ground. At least trash is soft.”

“It also stabs you,” Mako says dryly. “And smells.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bolin narrows his eyes, “but the ground always made you whine about your bones. Like an old man.”

The elevator slides open before Mako can answer that, thankfully.

“He still complains about his bones,” Wu says, and flashes Mako a grin as he brushes past him into the hallway.

Mako narrows his eyes, slipping out after Wu. “You made it half a night on the couch before you gave up. Don’t make me regret introducing you.” He tugs their key from his pocket and pushes open the door for Wu and Bolin. Something in him settles like it always does when they get back. The suite is still here, it’s still whole, and Mako still lives here and gets to sleep in a bed and not a pile of garbage.

“Uh,” Bolin pauses in taking off his shoes. “We’ve already met?”

“We have,” Wu agrees, dropping the map onto the coffee table. His eyes sketch over Bolin warily. “But neither of us made a great impression. You didn’t, at least.”

“Uh, yeah,” Bolin ducks his head with a sheepish laugh and puts his shoes neatly together by the door like Mako was always reminding him to do, “yeah, I didn’t, huh? Look, I know I messed up! I know I did and I’m really sorry. To both of you.”

“Oh, you don’t need to apologize to me,” Wu’s smiling now as he drops unceremoniously onto the couch.

“And you kind of already apologized to me,” Mako says dryly, “but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“Well I’m sorry! I’m really sorry,” Bolin holds out his hands to Mako. “Like, really, really sorry. She’s power mad! And I didn’t see it, and I helped her, and I’m sorry.”

He’s doing the thing where he talks a ton, all nervous energy. Like Wu. Mako stares at him for a second until Bolin’s face starts to fall. Mako’s never been able to stay strong against that. “Okay,” he sighs, and curls his hands into Bolin’s. “It’s fine, knock it off. You thought you were doing the right thing. Just… listen to me next time, okay, bro?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m definitely listening to you,” Bolin agrees. Mako squeezes his hands, smiling despite himself, then lets go as Bolin sinks down into one of the armchairs with a groan. 

“I had to learn the same thing,” Wu smiles over at Mako.

“Almost like everyone should listen to me about things,” Mako drops into the other armchair, glancing over at Wu. Wu’s a lot more nervous than Mako thought he’d be.

“We should,” Wu shoots him a look, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Anyway,” Mako says, a little too loud, “did it work? You and Opal okay now?”

“Oh, yeah! At least I think so. She forgave me for, you know, the the Kuvira thing. I think we still have a ways to go, but it’s a start,” he gets that faraway look in his eyes that he always does when he’s talking about a girl.

“You’re really trying.” Mako asks quietly.

“Yes!” Bolin nods vigorously, “yes, I’m trying. I care about her so much, I have to do anything I can do get her to forgive me.”

“I know the feeling,” Wu says, his eyes straying over to Mako again.

“You do?” Bolin asks, blinking at him. Mako sucks in a sharp little breath.

Wu holds Mako’s eyes for a second. He opens his mouth and nerves buzz in Mako’s gut, but Wu says, “yeah. I’ve done that. Made a bad decision, had to win back favor… it’s tough. But you can do it,” he tells Bolin with a wave of his hand.

Mako has never been more grateful that he got all the observational skills, between the two of them. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to tell Bolin about him and Wu, eventually. Bolin needs to know if this is going to be a thing. He needs to be okay with Wu, as a person, not as a world leader having a very bad day. Mako doesn’t even know how he and Wu are going to work, in the long term. Wu’s a lot more than just Mako’s boyfriend, even if calling him that still makes Mako feel molten and strange. 

Also, he’s not entirely sure Bolin knows Mako’s… whatever he is. Into guys. Even though it’s been a fact of Mako’s life for as long as he can remember, they’ve never really talked about it. How that conversation goes, Mako can’t fathom.

His own name jolts him out of his thoughts, and he focuses on Bolin waving a hand in front of his face. “You in there, Mako?”

“I’m fine,” Mako says, and Bolin’s answering burst of laughter fills the air. He’s been talking to Wu this whole time, apparently. They’re both grinning, and Wu looks a lot more relaxed, sprawled on the couch with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A few tiny freckles scatter his forearms. Mako never noticed those before.

Mako catches Wu staring at him, too, with an expression Mako can’t quite read. “Uh. I should get started on dinner.

“Yes!” Bolin sits up eagerly, then frowns, “wait, can’t we order room service.”

“Mako hates room service,” Wu shoots him a teasing grin.

“I don’t hate it,” Mako protests as he pushes himself up. “It’s not as good.” It’s habit, more than anything, to hold out a hand for Wu to help him out off the couch. Wu lets Mako haul him up, swaying close like he always does until Wu seems to remember that Bolin is there and lets go of Mako’s hand with a quick look over Mako’s face. 

Like he’s looking for something. Mako blinks, then tells him, “call the kitchen, though. We need radishes.” 

It’s the one perk of living in a hotel that Mako has let himself take advantage of (besides the ridiculously soft beds). Their kitchen is ridiculously well-stocked and asking them for their ingredients, according to Wu, soothed some of their ruffled feathers after he and Wu stopped ordering room service. Mako doesn’t ask how much it costs. He doesn’t really want to know.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wu waves him off with a sigh. “You sure that’s it? I don’t want to have to call them three times like last week.”

Mako snorts, already heading for the tiny kitchen to check that it is in fact all they need. “What happened to ‘Cam loves helping me, I’m his favorite guest’?”

“He does love helping me, and I am his favorite guest,” Wu sniffs, brushing past him to the phone.

Bolin traipses after them with a confused expression on his face. Pabu perks up on his shoulder. “He lets you order him around?” Bolin asks.

Mako’s face heats up. That isn’t at all how Bolin meant it, but he has no idea how close to the truth he is. “I’m not ordering him around, he’s helping.” He busies himself by tugging open the icebox to look for vegetables. “Honestly? Wu’s a pretty good roommate. Heads-up,” he tosses a bag of mushrooms to Bolin. “Wash those for me.”

Bolin snatches them out of the air and starts searching through the drawers. “Never would have guessed! You seem a lot happier now, with your whole job and stuff.”

Mako’s very glad his back is turned. And that Bolin is busy with the mushrooms. He can just hear Wu in the other room, chatting to Cam like he always does. He turns 10-second requests into 15-minute conversations every time. Mako doesn’t even think he’s exaggerating when Wu says Cam likes him: he’s ridiculously friendly with all the staff here, and even forgave them (after a week or so) for booting them from their suite.

“Yeah,” Mako says after a moment, and wonders at the truth in his own voice. Kuvira is bearing down on them and Mako can’t ignore the dread of that, but he’s been living in a constant state of assuming the world is seconds from collapsing since he was a kid. Here in the tiny kitchen, with Bolin and Wu—it feels like home. “I am.” 

“Hey, that’s great!” Bolin grins at him as he starts chopping the mushrooms. He was never very good at cooking: all of the pieces are going to be different sizes. But at least he tries. “Last time you seemed really, uh. Well, I guess so did I! A lot has changed, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Mako mumbles to himself, and shakes his head when Bolin asks what he said. “The faster you chop, the faster we get to eat.”

“Some things haven’t changed,” Bolin groans, but he does as Mako asks and starts to pay a little more attention to the mushrooms.

* * *

Wu and Bolin get along startlingly well. They do most of the talking during dinner, trading stories back and forth. Mako gives up on trying to get a word in after a while. It’s nice, seeing them together. The last vestiges of Mako’s nervous thoughts—that they wouldn’t like each other, that Bolin wouldn’t get it, that Wu wouldn’t fit somehow—fade somewhere in the middle of them talking about Opal’s sky bison:

“Bison are majestic, beautiful creatures,” Wu retorts, pointing his chopstick at Bolin.

“Most are! But Juicy isn’t. There’s always one, right?” Bolin laughs loudly, the sound filling up this space that was just Mako and Wu’s for so long.

“There is always one. Like my cousin, Arjun,” Wu launches into one of his ridiculous stories about his family, before Zaheer’s attack three years ago. This one involves his cousin running away and trying to follow in his great-grandfather’s footsteps by taming a bear. Mako vaguely thinks he’s heard it before, but Wu’s giving it new energy with Bolin here, and Mako finds himself grinning at it, too, his eyes fixed on Wu’s animated face. 

Wu catches his gaze, faltering in the middle of the climax. He tilts his head. “What?”

Mako glances quickly away, biting down on his smile. “Nothing.” 

Wu narrows his eyes, but picks up the story again. His foot nudges Mako’s under the table.

Bolin bursts into laughter, slapping the table with his hand. It splashes some of his broth up onto his face, and then Mako is laughing, too, while Bolin smiles sheepishly. He gets his revenge by launching into his most embarrassing story about Mako from when they were kids, when Mako managed to get a part-time job as a mascot for some restaurant and ended up burning the stupid costume.

Wu and Bolin are laughing too hard, and Wu reaches over to squeeze Mako’s arm, “Mako never wears the things I buy for him! Maybe I should make them your uniform. Then you’d have to.”

Mako narrows his eyes and presses his foot into Wu’s under the table. “I already have a uniform, and it looks fine.”

“Aw, man, you could make him dress up like, like,” Bolin narrows his eyes at Mako.

“A badgermole!” Wu supplies, grinning at him.

“Oh, yeah!” Bolin laughs even louder, “you’d make a great badgermole, Mako!”

“Better than a rain poncho as a disguise,” Mako shoots back, grinning at Bolin’s wounded look. “Or whatever it was you were wearing in your movers.”

“I love those movers,” Wu says, leaning in toward Bolin and adding with a sly grin, “and I particularly liked those outfits.”

“Aw, man, I did too! Showed off the goods,” he poses while still sitting at the table, and Wu laughs.

Clearly, Mako is outnumbered. He doesn’t really mind.

The dishes go a lot faster with Bolin helping. Something in Mako warms at the easy, familiar rhythm they fall into. This was their nightly routine for years: Mako heating their water with his hands to save on their bill, scrubbing, and then handing to Bolin to dry and put away while Bolin chatters about whatever is on his mind. With him and Wu both, it’s a meandering tour of every topic under the sun, from their favorite movers (which they agree on) to their favorite foods (which they don’t at all agree on) to whether or not Bolin could ever become a fashion icon (Wu says yes, and Bolin sniffles a bit in apparent gratitude).

By the time Bolin leaves, it’s fully dark, and the moon hangs just outside the massive windows. The suite is a lot quieter without all of Bolin’s energy filling it up. Mako closes the door with a strange softness in his chest and turns back toward Wu, who’s perched on the couch with the last of the sake they dug out from the back of the cabinet and the map that Beifong gave him spread out on the coffe table. 

Wu glances up at Mako with a small smile, reaching out a hand for him. “I think it can wait til the morning.”

Mako is about to protest but he’s warm from the sake and Wu looks relaxed and happy and Bolin is safe. He nods and nudges Wu aside so he can sit, instead. “Sure. We’ll figure out how to get millions of people out of the city later.”

Wu stretches his legs out over Mako’s lap, falling back into the couch. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he groans, “we should do it now, but. That was so nice. I don’t want the real world to come back in yet.”

“I know,” Mako sighs after a moment. “I am kind of regretting introducing you.” He flashes Wu a tiny smile, trailing his fingers along the bare skin of his ankle.

“No you aren’t,” Wu laughs, sipping on the sake. “You were having fun. You two are cute together.”

Mako squeezes his ankle without much force. “Is that the best word for it?” 

“Definitely,” Wu nudges his thigh. “You’re really cute.”

“You’re cute,” Mako mutters. It’s the worst comeback in the world but it makes Wu snort into his sake glass, so Mako counts it as a victory all the same. He pushes his hand up the wide hem of Wu’s pants, curling fingers around his calf. 

Wu’s eyes are on him, and after a moment he says, “you’re not ready to tell him about us.”

Mako’s breath catches. He meets Wu’s eyes for a bare second before looking down at his own hand, pale against Wu’s skin. “I don’t know how.”

“Yeah?” Wu asks softly. He shifts up to push his fingers into Mako’s hair.

Mako meets his eyes, soft and green and full of curiosity. “I’m… not sure he knows that I don’t just like women.”

“You never were with a guy before?” Wu asks, but he already knows the answer, Mako is sure of that.

His face feels hot all the same. “It’s… just Asami and Korra. And you.”

Wu presses a soft kiss to his cheek, pressing close to him. “You don’t think he’d be okay with it?”

“I have no idea,” Mako mumbles. 

And he doesn’t think Bolin would mind. Bolin has more love in his heart than anyone Mako knows. There’s no way he would hold anything like that against Mako. It makes no rational sense to be nervous about it, and Mako knows that, in theory.

“And,” he continues, quietly, “We have enough to figure out. You know? I don’t want him to get ahead of himself like Tu did.”

“Right, right,” Wu plays idly with Mako’s hair, “what’d he say? Something about you being the Earth King too?”

Groaning, Mako shoves his face into the side of Wu’s head. “That can’t be how it works.”

“There’s really no precedent,” Wu reminds him, “so… I guess it can work however we want it to.”

“You’re gonna be doing a lot of unprecedented things, it sounds like,” Mako lifts his head again. “You’ve really been doing your research.”

“What, about Earth Kings? Kinda my job,” Wu pulls him into a kiss. Mako can taste the sake on his lips.

“Would you let me compliment you? I’m impressed.”

“You know I love a compliment,” Wu grins, pressing in close, “but you’re changing the subject.”

“Stubborn,” Mako breathes, and lets out a sigh. “I want to tell him. But… we have an entire city to empty out. That’s enough without the entire world being on your case about some scandalous relationship.”

“You’re probably right,” Wu scoots even closer, half in Mako’s lap now, “we can handle a scandal after we win this war.”

“It… would be pretty scandalous.” Mako says, trying for casual. It doesn’t quite work. 

“Well… yeah. Probably,” Wu’s expression is guarded, voice even, “Like. I told you, the Earth Kingdom isn’t the most progressive. It won’t be easy. But I’ve been thinking about it. And I think we can make it work.”

Something about his tone catches at Mako’s breath, keeps him right where he is, focused on Wu’s face. “You’re the one who’s gonna take the heat. You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure,” his eyes drop for a moment, “you’re worth it. And, even without you, I think I wouldn’t be happy if I was with a woman. I realized that, recently.”

Mako’s so caught by this man, he thinks. Wu’s hair is escaping from its pomade, curling around his ears, and his shoulders are sharp underneath his soft shirt—he took off his jacket when they got home. Mako’s voice comes out soft. “How recently?” 

“I… recently,” his glances over Mako’s face, voice soft, “after we broke up. I tried to flirt, to imagine if I could see myself with a dame, but it never really stuck. But,” he laughs, pressing in close, “that could also be because I was stuck on you.”

Mako’s smile won’t leave his face. “Yeah, that was… pretty hard to watch.”

Wu shoves at Mako’s shoulder, but he ends up wrapping his arms around Mako. “My heart wasn’t in it.” Mako yanks him closer still, until Wu is sprawled over him and laughing as Mako drags his lips along the line of his throat.

“I’ll tell him,” he breathes into Wu’s skin. “When this is over. When we win.”

“Yeah. Yeah. When we win,” Wu holds him close, sucking in a breath to say something else. Instead, he presses in to kiss Mako hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Programming note: Next chapter will be up next Monday instead of this Thursday. 
> 
> We're buying ourselves a little more time to nail the end. What we'd originally written as the end game isn't as satisfying with everything we've edited in, so it's getting a complete rewrite.
> 
> Normal note: The first scene in this ch is one of my favorites. We were rewatching season 4 and saw that scene and were like oh no how do we work with that and somehow, someway, we did it! Creators intentions aside, it works 👀


	18. Book 2, Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place through Season 4, Episodes 11, 12, and 13

The city is holding its breath. 

Mako grew up in the noise of it all, surrounded by voices and laughter and honking and shouting, the smell of garbage and cooking food and humanity. Even up in their suite, high off the ground, Mako could hear the rhythm of it, familiar and far-off, like a heartbeat. 

Now, when he curls around Wu at night, tugging him close in the heavy, warm darkness, he listens for sirens and shouting and the hum of Satomobiles, and hears nothing. 

After three days, lights appear in the harbor: the United Forces, again. Mako watches them on their way to the train station, their silhouettes dark against the sunrise, and wonders if they’ll actually be useful this time.

Airships emblazoned with the United Forces seal hover, humming, above the rail lines while they work. More appear as the days go by until the sky is thick with them.

Wu seems energized by the evacuation, rallying the people, getting them in line, motivating them with resounding speeches every hour about how they’ll overcome adversity as long as they stay together and get on the next train. 

Mako is exhausted by it. There’s too many people, all jostling into each other with crying children and too many bags. The station is a crush of color and noise. He has to keep an eye on Wu, but Wu keeps darting around, helping every person who needs him or looks vaguely lost or upset. It seems to be working—Mako’s sure there would be a lot more chaos and anger without Wu soothing everyone’s nerves with ridiculous stories about how he forgot to bring his toothbrush when he was rushed from Ba Sing Se—but this is Wu’s element, not Mako’s. The most Mako can do is watch and read off which train people are supposed to be on based on their neighborhood. 

Usually Mako’s work is what he throws himself into in order to forget the other things in his life. Now the other things in his life—Kuvira, and Wu, and the brewing war marching to his city’s doorstep—are his work. 

After about a week, Korra comes to help out at the station and tells Mako that the perimeter is already set up, an entire line of soldiers protecting the vulnerable north. 

“I don’t know what else to do,” she says with a familiar frown on her face. They’re both watching Wu as he kneels down by a pair of sniffling siblings, talking in a soft voice about how brave they both are and how proud he is. Mako’s entire body has felt too-tight for days. His lungs constrict a little, watching Wu like this. 

He tears his eyes away to look at Korra, instead. “Yeah. I know what you mean. I’ve never felt so useless.” Her face drops even more, and guilt pangs through Mako. “But,” he continues, a little rushed, “we’re ahead of schedule. Wu’s been great at convincing people to leave. We thought there’d be more resistance, but between Wu and Pema, it’s going well.”

Korra nods, her eyes narrowing. “I have an idea. Something that we can do.”

“Yeah?” Mako asks, watching as Wu manages to make both of the kids stop crying. He ushers them onto their train with the tireless smile he’s been wearing for days. Mako looks away again, focusing back on Korra’s worried face.

“I want to see what kind of heat she’s bringing. Kuvira. I’m going to fly out. You should come with me,” she glances at him, lips pressed in a hard line.

“I will,” Mako says immediately—maybe they can do more than that, maybe they could even do something about the weapon before it gets to them—and then thinks of Wu at the meeting and his frown at Mako running off again. “But I need to talk to Wu first.”

Korra opens her mouth to argue, then seems to think better of it. “Okay. I’m going to get Bolin and Asami. I want all of us there.”

Mako nods quietly. If they could do something about it, that would ease a lot of the worries nipping at his heels. Whether kids like Skoochy made it out okay without a neighborhood plan to rely on, if all those people who live under the city heard. If they’re doing enough. It doesn’t feel like they’re doing enough.

Korra looks like she wants to say more, but shouting erupts across the station and she heaves a sigh, shooting Mako a look before running off to deal with it. The next train is due to leave any minute and the crowds are getting thick and anxious. 

Mako sucks in a breath and goes to grab lunch for Wu. He’s so wrapped up in his task that he’ll forget about it entirely unless Mako brings him something.

By the time he comes back with a bag of dumplings steaming in his hands, the train has left, Korra is gone, and Wu is collapsed against a column.

He doesn’t open his eyes until Mako drops a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, buddy,” Wu smiles up at him. He’s started calling Mako ‘buddy’ more often, to the point that it sounds almost like an endearment. “Oh, are those dumplings?”

“From the place next door,” Mako says, and pushes the bag into his hands. “Eat. Pema will deal with the next group for now.”

Wu nods and slips down the column to sit cross-legged on the floor.

Mako is struck for a moment by the fact that two years ago, Wu would never have sat on the floor in his nice suit. He would have demanded a chair and a table and probably a candle for the ambiance.

Now he’s sitting on the dusty floor and moaning, his mouth full of dumpling as he says, “Mako, this is so good! You should have one,” he holds a dumpling out for Mako.

Mako sinks down next to him as he takes it. Wu didn’t even ask to wash his hands first or something. His hair is a mess—he barely spent any time on it this morning, or any of the mornings they’ve been doing this—and his suit’s unbuttoned at the top.

“This is good,” Mako says around his own dumpling, and holds his hand out for another one.

Wu narrows his eyes, but hands him another even as he says, “you should have gotten your own, Mako! I want to eat all of these.”

“That’s why I got seven,” Mako says with a little grin. He shifts a little closer, until their knees are pressed together. “You usually eat five before you’re full. The other two are mine.”

“Mako,” Wu sighs, leaning in for a second before he elbows Mako’s in the ribs. “I want to kiss you so bad right now.”

Mako knows the feeling. He wants to press himself up against Wu’s side, keep him there and away from Kuvira’s looming presence. “Korra dropped by,” he says, and pushes his arm against Wu’s. “The perimeter’s in place.”

“Oh, good,” Wu nods, downing another dumpling, “we should have the rest of the citizens out in three or four days.”

“Ahead of schedule,” Mako says quietly. “Good. That’s… good.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s going pretty well,” Wu smiles at him. He seems to mean it, too: it’s one of his real smiles, the small kind that reaches his eyes. Mako sort of envies his optimism. He can’t seem to muster up the same kind of hope.

“Yeah,” Mako finally says. “You’re doing a great job, Wu.”

Wu’s smile falls, slowly slipping on his face, “I’m doing my best. I don’t, what’s wrong?”

Mako lets his head drop against the column. “This wouldn’t be working without you, and I can’t do anything.”

“Yes you can, and you are,” Wu says, his brows furrowing, “you’re helping a lot.”

“No, I’m not,” Mako says, too-sharp. He curls his fingers into his own uniform and then uncurls them again with a bitten-off groan. “Wu, I’m… so proud of you. You’re handling this so well, you’re ahead of schedule, you—keep making children happy.”

“Mako,” Wu turns toward him, tangling their fingers together between their bodies, “thank you. For saying that. But why are you upset?”

“You don’t… need me. For any of this.” Mako says, without quite meaning to. He swallows and glances down, away from the concern on Wu’s face.

“So what are you saying?” Wu’s frown deepens, his voice even.

Mako sucks in a breath. “Korra wants to do recon. Fly out, see if we can find anything out about that superweapon.”

“And you want to go with her,” Wu says slowly. “Mako, that’s… that’s fine, if you want to go. I feel safe enough here, with the police all around. We can ask Beifong to give me someone else.”

“Yeah?” Mako lifts his head again. Wu is watching him closely with a little frown, his eyes flicking over Mako’s face. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Wu nods, then a tiny smile curves his lips, “I’ll have to get used to you not being around. You know. For Ba Sing Se. You should go.” 

It isn’t funny, and Mako laughs anyway, squeezing Wu’s hand with relief uncoiling in his limbs. “I don’t think we’ll be gone long, but this is a good idea. We need to know what we’re up against.”

“Yeah, we do,” Wu’s eyes flick over his face, and Mako thinks for a moment that Wu might kiss him. Instead, Wu smiles and squeezes his hand before popping another dumpling into his mouth.

The station is already filling up again, voices and footsteps echoing around them, tapping past the column they’re leaning against. Mako glances around at the forest of shoes and legs and luggage. Pema’s voice carries over the crowd, echoing through the station as she calls for people to start forming a queue.

No one is looking at them.

Mako pulls his hand free of Wu’s to cup his face instead, pulling him into a kiss that’s over faster than Mako wants it to be. “I’m going to go find Korra,” he says, close to Wu’s lips, “and get Beifong to send someone over. You got this. Okay?”

“Okay,” Wu steals another quick kiss, “don’t do anything stupid. I need you back in one piece.”

Mako flashes him a tiny, bright grin with new purpose and adrenaline already jolting through him. “No promises,” he says against Wu’s lips. “I love you. Be careful.”

And then Pema is shouting Wu’s name, waving for him, so Mako shoves himself up and pulls Wu up, too, who’s staring at him with wide eyes.

Mako turns to leave, and Wu shouts after him, “you had better promise!”

“This is already a stupid idea!” Mako shouts back, grinning over his shoulder. Wu is flushed and bright-eyed, and smiles back like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. Mako’s entire body thrums with a heat and warmth that carries him all the way to Air Temple Island.

* * *

Mako didn’t expect Tenzin and Raiko to agree with their plan.

It’s definitely risky. Korra, Asami, and Bolin were quick to agree that they should try to take the thing out before it even got to the city, rather than just lay eyes on it, but Tenzin is so practical and protective of Korra that Mako thought surely they’d have to sneak out in the dead of night.

Instead, they’re sailing through the air as the sunrise breaks around them in utter silence. No one, not even Bolin, has spoken since they took off hours ago. They know the plan—went over it about ten times, with Bolin reciting everything he knows about the weapon and Asami drafting and re-drafting ideas to disable it. She has about four backup plans. Mako is pretty sure they can do this, and he’s equally sure that if they can’t, Republic City doesn’t stand a chance. Not with the destruction Bolin described.

Bolin and Asami are on the watch shift, scanning the ground for any sign of movement. There shouldn’t be anything yet. Kuvira’s still a week away, and they’re nowhere near the main rail-line into Republic City, running long and flat through the valleys.

Cold surprise jolts through Mako when Bolin makes a high, startled sound. “Guys, I see something,” he drops the telescope Asami gave him, leaning over the edge of the saddle to point near the shadowed mountains.

Mako looks, and sees nothing, but Asami sucks in a breath as they round the jutting shoulder of a ridge. “Is that…?”

Korra’s voice is hard. “Kuvira. She’s already crossed into United Republic territory. She's a week early.”

Mako shakes his head. He sees them now, tiny dark shapes moving in perfect formation through the valley below. “This doesn’t make sense.” Bolin and Asami twist to look at him. “There aren’t any train tracks this way.” But there are definitely troops down there: infantry in mech suits, and mecha-tanks rolling along ponderously behind them. And no tracks anywhere nearby. Mako leans out of the saddle, then looks at Bolin. “How are they transporting that super weapon of theirs?”

Before Bolin can answer, something in the distance thuds like a boulder crashing into the earth. Even up in the air, nerves and the echo of the sound race along Mako’s skin.

Another thump, and Mako tracks some birds wheeling up in a dark cloud against the sky. Something behind the ridge is moving, huge and unnatural. Sharp whirring fills the air.

Mako doesn’t even know what to make of the thing that appears from behind the mountain. It’s huge, all shining metal and strange arcing lines, moving with an odd up-and-down gait. It only resolves into a recognizable thing when Asami gasps, “Apparently on a giant mecha-suit!”

It’s shaped almost like a human, the largest thing Mako has ever seen, and walking along the plain behind the mecha-tanks. Airships trail it like turtle-ducklings, clustered in its long-reaching shadow.

Mako whips around to face Bolin with horror turning his stomach to ice. “Did you know Kuvira was building that thing?”

Bolin, white-faced and wide-eyed, snaps, “Oh, did I forget to mention it? No! Of course I didn't know!”

It’s hard to look away from the thing, even as it turns, its giant legs braced against the rocky ground, and then raises its giant arm, aimed straight for them. Purple flares against the expanse of metal, and Bolin makes a tiny, choked off sort of noise. 

“I know what happens next!” He says, quick and high. “We gotta get outta here now!” Purple flares brighter. “Now!”

The beam makes the same horrible sound that Vaatu had, searing the air over their heads. Korra jerks the reins just time to get them lurching out of the way. 

The mountain beside them bursts like a shattered pottery.

Their bison bellows as they careen toward the ground. Mako yanks one arm around Bolin and grabs onto the saddle, hanging on for their lives, his voice lost somewhere to the wind. They’re screaming and the air is full of the smell of singed fur and hot rock and ozone. Mako should be worried about the city, about all the people, but as another beam shatters the ridge in front of them, all he can think about is Wu in the train station, with no idea what’s coming for him.

* * *

“Korra, are you alright?” Tenzin’s voice is full of worry as Mako, numb-limbed and heavy, tugs himself free from the saddle and holds out a hand to help Bolin and Asami down. Korra’s already hurrying toward everyone crowded around, her face grim. “Why are you back so soon?”

Mako hurries after her with a sick sense of familiarity, like they’ve done this all before. Of course: they have. They’ve been through so much, and now there’s a war and a giant superweapon, and Mako is terrified. “It’s Kuvira. Our intel was wrong. She must've known Zhu Li had the information.”

Raiko is frowning at them, looking ruffled. “What are you trying to say?”

“Kuvira's army is only a few hours away,” Korra’s voice is hard, staring Raiko down.

“No, they can't be,” Tenzin sounds terrified, looking around at the four of them, “we're not ready.”

Everyone bursts into motion as Korra briefs them on everything currently hurtling toward Republic City, and Mako has to make himself focus on it instead of thinking about Wu down there in the train station, unaware of the danger. He’d been alone all night in their suite, probably. Wu doesn’t do well when he’s alone.

“Pema, find Wu and get the remaining citizens to safety immediately!” Tenzin says, and Mako starts a little, his entire body coiled with tension. He wants to tug Pema aside, ask her to keep Wu safe, but she’s already turning to leave. “We can't have innocent lives in jeopardy.”

“What should we do?” Bolin asks from beside him, sounding worried and lost.

“Let's go to my factory. Maybe we can get a few of those hummingbird suits up and running,” Asami cuts in.

He’ll be a lot more useful with Asami, probably. He hopes so. Mako can’t take any more of this breathless, awful waiting.

He follows them to the factory, but there’s really nothing Mako can do there, either. He watches Asami and Varrick making as many last-minute adjustments as they can, whispering furiously to each other. Asami meets his eyes after a few minutes and calls him over, and Mako gratefully sinks into tightening bolts and soldering joints together with small, pointed flames. It’s tiny, complicated work, which is perfect: he has to focus. Focusing means he can’t think about Wu. Pema is warning him, she knows what’s going on. She’ll make sure that he gets out safely. 

Mako has to believe that.

He’s almost finished when the first blast slams into the city.

The shaking almost knocks over the suit he’s working on, and Mako jolts back and then to his feet, glancing around to make sure nothing exploded. The factory is fine.

But outside the massive windows, smoke, flames, and awful purple light billow from Yue Bay, and Mako watches in horror as Iroh’s fleet falls apart. 

He darts for Bolin and Asami as another blast rocks the city, slamming into more of the fleet and tearing the ships to shreds like so much chaff.

“This is exactly why I didn't want to build that weapon!” Varrick snaps in a shaking voice. It’s the only sound in the factory.

Tiny figures swoop out of the sky toward the burning boats, crawling with people trying to get off the burning wreckage. Mako’s stomach swoops along with them and then stays, numb and still, as he watches the dust settle over his city. Again.

The silence is shattered by frantic knocking at the metal door. Frowning, ash-white, Asami goes to open it only to be greeted by a grim-faced Tenzin supporting a United Forces soldier with blood leaking out of one ear.

“We need,” is all he gets out before Asami is waving him in, and Bolin and Mako surround the soldier, lifting her from Tenzin’s grasp so they can lower her gently to the floor.

“Bring anyone you can,” Asami’s voice is tight.

“There are more,” Tenzin says grimly, and then he’s gone again.

He and the other airbenders bring as many more soldiers as they can, some cut, some burnt, all in various states of shock. Mako rips the uniform of one to make a half-assed tourniquet to stem the bleeding from her arm, and hopes that it’s enough. These people need a hospital, not a bunch of engineers, but this place is all they have right now.

“It came out of nowhere,” she mumbles as Mako ties the makeshift bandage off.

All he can do is nod.

“Guys,” Varrick says, his voice uncharacteristically grim, “I’m not sure these suits are gonna be airworthy in time, with stuff exploding left and right. Asami, get over here, we need to think.”

Mako and Bolin follow her, leaving the soldiers with Tenzin and his family—children, all of them but they’re benders in the middle of a war and they all have to help, he guesses—so Varrick and Asami can bounce ideas off of them.

They’re nowhere closer to a solution when Korra slams the door open, her face just as grim. 

“Raiko surrendered,” she anounces before anyone can ask. “It's down to us now.”

She gathers up the airbenders, and Mako goes back to helping as many soldiers as he can, with Bolin quiet and sad at his side. This isn’t something he and Mako can help out with, either. Mako’s never felt so useless in his life, watching more thick black smoke fill the bay outside.

It seems like hours until Korra gets back again, but she does, and apparently they were successful because they have a very angry Bataar Jr. who doesn’t want to cooperate with them at all. Even his family can’t seem to get through to him.

Mako’s half-horrified, half-impressed by Korra’s way of breaking him.

She’s come a long way since he first met her. Still impulsive, still tries to take the entire world onto her shoulders like it’s her responsibility, but there’s something about her now that’s settled. Tempered, maybe, is the better word. 

It works. It seems to, anyway. Kuvira’s solid, steady voice crackles through their radio, and everyone’s shoulders drop a little. A solution.

Mako glances out the window.

“As soon as we work out terms with Kuvira, we'll let you out of here,” Korra says quietly. One of the ships juts up out of the water like a broken tooth.

Something moves at the edge of the city.

Mako’s stomach drops again as the mech’s arm rises.

“Guys,” he calls, urgent, as purple flares. “She must have our location! She's pointing that weapon right at us.”

“No, she wouldn't—” Bataar Jr. chokes, fearful, but the purple flares brighter still, and Korra barks for everyone to get out.

Mako grabs for the nearest person and runs, but it’s not fast enough: the factory behind him bursts into noise and heat and shattering glass. Whirling, Mako redirects as much of the blast as he can, swirling his arms around himself, leaning into the heat and the currents of flame, and he doesn’t have time to move but the building is already crashing down—and then there’s silence. Mako drops, opens his eyes, and sees Bolin with his feet shoved into the earth like a pillar and everyone else on the floor looking shocked.

Bolin meets his eyes, and Mako shoves himself up.

“Go!” He calls, yanking up the soldier he’d bandaged earlier. There were more of them, and he can’t see them all. 

“Go ahead,” Bolin grunts with effort as everyone streams out around him. “Take your time. Just bending a giant wall. Man, we got a lot of people here. Is that everybody?”

Bumi and Suyin, dragging Bataar Jr., heave themselves out from under the wall. Bolin finally lets it drop with a thud that shakes through Mako’s bones.

Air whirls as Tenzin heads up to get a look at the wreckage. Mako uses the silence to wrap an arm around Bolin, tugging him close for a second.

“You did good,” he breathes against Bolin’s shaking shoulder.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” Bolin laughs weakly, leaning into him. “Hey, when you got rocks, right?”

Snorting, Mako wraps both arms around him, and stays like that until Tenzin drops into the middle of the group.

“Kuvira's heading our way with a platoon of mecha-suits,” he says, his voice hard. 

Asami makes a little noise in her throat, her hand braced on Korra’s shoulder. “What should we do?”

Bolin tugs himself away from Mako’s arms, staring hard at the ground. “This is my hometown,” he says, with a weight to his voice that Mako doesn’t like, “and I hate to say it, but there's no use risking all our lives to fight that giant thing. Let her take the city for now. We'll think of some way to come back and beat her.”

Mako doesn’t even think, fear jolting through him. “What about all the people who haven't been evacuated yet?” He can feel Bolin’s eyes on him. Korra’s too. Mako swallows hard. “If Kuvira finds out Wu is with them, she might fire that spirit cannon at him and take them all out.”

For a moment, Korra meets his eyes, and Mako is frozen amid the rubble and the smoke. She stares at him for a few seconds, and nods. “I couldn't stop Kuvira from taking Zaofu. I'm not letting her conquer Republic City. The world isn't safe as long as she has that weapon.”

“I agree,” a familiar voice says, and Mako whirls to see Beifong standing on top of the rubble, alive, okay. “We take down that giant today.”

Mako has never been more glad to see her.

* * *

Their plan isn’t a good one. Mako knows that, but he doesn’t have a better one, so he throws himself into it anyway, his world narrowed to the mecha crushing the streets of his city, and keeping it away from Wu. Asami and Varrick are the ones who might actually fix this. Mako is just here to be a distraction and to keep his family alive.

He’s used to this: focusing on the next thing in front of him, flinging fire here, sinking into the swirl of heat and light until the cannon fires again and its shattering noise fills the streets. Airbenders drop out of the sky like insects, and Mako rushes to catch one of them before she slams into the ground, his boots skidding on metal and glass shards. Cracks spiderweb across the street. Mako dodges debris, a typewriter slammed out of a storefront, a halved table. He and Bolin ate at that restaurant, once, laughing at how many dumplings Bolin could fit into his mouth.

They retreat to Asami’s office, chased by the weapon slamming into the street beside them. Hiroshi Sato is there, and Mako doesn’t even have the presence of mind to question it. He lays out their plan in stark terms: cut in, do damage from the inside. Mako volunteers at the same time as Bolin. Damage, they can do, as long as there’s something to hit.

The Colossus follows them. They’re ready, this time, or as ready as they can be. Its stomping footsteps shatter more glass, and it looms up in front of them, and Mako braces himself next to Bolin like he always does and tries again to take it down, his head empty.

It doesn’t go any better this time. Korra shifts into the Avatar State, all raw power, and it’s still not enough to knock this thing off its feet, and Mako starts to think that he’s glad at least that he told Wu he loved him because there’s a very strong chance that he won’t make it out of this. That’s nothing new. When Mako was 13 he didn’t think he’d make it to 18, one night curled up in the cold with Bolin, breathing into the air around them over and over again to make sure they didn’t freeze. They hadn’t eaten real food in about a week, had almost gotten arrested the one time the police decided to crack down, and all Mako could think about was not falling asleep so that they woke up the next morning.

Then the hummingbird suits arrive.

Two of them, with teams of two flying the machines. Mako doesn’t know who the fourth pilot is, but they buzz around the Colossus exactly like their namesakes, a distraction if nothing else.

Korra retreats, and pulls up enough water to freeze the giant thing in place. Mako watches numbly as one of the machines finally lands, sparks flying. It’s cutting in. He hopes Asami isn’t in there. It would be fine if it was Varrick, but Asami needs to make it through this. She has so much in her future.

The Colossus twists and ice goes flying, and Mako’s heart freezes, because its massive hand smacks down toward the tiny machine. 

He hears the crunch of metal, sick and sharp, and watches a white parachute and familiar dark hair sink slowly to the ground.

“Hiroshi’s plan worked,” Korra says softly. There’s a tight sort of sadness in her voice. Mako shifts just a bit closer. “There's our opening.”

They swarm into the thing like ants, make it in just in time for a giant hand to slam down against the hole, and Mako’s world narrows again: he has to climb, get to the engine room, disable this thing, get out. One thing after the other. 

The engine is easy enough to find: just climb up, follow the heat. Bolin cuts through the floor like it’s paper, and Mako scans the purple-bright room as soon as they’re up. Two levers, and a throbbing violet mass of spirit vines in the middle.

“I'm going for that lever,” Mako says sharply, and points across the room. “You get the other one.”

Guards snap at them, but Mako has a job to do: he whirls into motion, ducks out of the way of shrapnel and sends fire careening toward the man.

Metal slams into Mako’s hand just as he’s punching, sending fire into the spirit vines which erupt in hissing and crackling. Electricity surges, explodes, and pain bursts through Mako as he’s thrown with it, slamming into a pipe, but he can’t stay down. Bolin’s handling the other guard, and Mako shoves himself back up, ducks more shrapnel flung his way. He’s almost crushed by a sheet of metal but manages to twist away, blast the guard into the control panel. Mako slams him into the ground to make sure he’s out and lunges for the lever.

“I’m ready!” He calls over the crackle of the vines. The Colossus whirs around him, and metal clangs.

“Be with you in one second! Kind of busy!” Bolin calls, strained. Just as Mako is about to let go, help his brother, steam explodes into the room, and there’s a thud. “Okay! Ready now!” Bolin calls. Mako can just see him around the pulsing mass.

He counts, his heart pounding, and they pull the levers.

“Nothing’s happening,” Mako calls. The spirit vines are still crackling and hissing.

“Kuvira must have done some override thing and taken control!” Bolin shouts. 

He lets go of his lever, running for Bolin.

“There's got to be some other way to shut down power from here,” Mako snaps. Bolin is staring helplessly at the control panel, his face twisted in worry, undecided in that way he gets. “Come on,” Mako continues, sharp. “You spent all that time working with Varrick and Baatar Jr. Didn't any of their genius rub off on you?”

Bolin’s head jerks up, his eyes wide. “Look, the only thing I know about these vines is that if you mess around with them too much, they explode.”

They hiss, jolting with energy, still pulsing. One little blast of fire had sent electricity surging hard enough to knock Mako into a wall. The last task. They have to do this, or Wu and everyone else is as good as dead, and Mako can’t let that happen. There’s no other way to take this thing down.

Mako sets his jaw, and turns back to Bolin. “Get those engineers out of here. I have an idea.”

Bolin’s brow furrows. “Wanna fill me in?”

“I'm gonna zap these vines with some electricity,” Mako says shortly. They don’t have much time, but Bolin’s eyes widen.

“Let's back it up, okay?” He shakes his head, meeting Mako’s eyes. “I said that will make the vines explode.”

"Exactly,” Mako says. “This is our only way of shutting this thing down. I can handle it.” Bolin has to get out of here. His hands land on Mako’s shoulders, though, pulling him closer.

“No, you can't,” he says, breathless, and Mako’s body tightens with worry and guilt and resolve all at once. “This isn't the time to prove how awesome you are,” he says. “I already know how awesome you are.” His voice is choked. “You’re awesome.”

“I don't have time to argue!” Mako snaps. It’s harsh and he knows that, but they’re running out time and if Bolin is in here then he won’t make it either, and Mako would rather throw himself straight into the spirit vines than see that happen. He’s spent his entire life just trying to keep Bolin alive, and safe, and happy. “I'm doing this, so get out of here.”

Bolin looks down. His eyes are wet with tears and for a second Mako thinks he’s going to argue and maybe Mako will have to force him back down the hatch, but he meets Mako’s eyes again and says, “Okay. But for the record, I do not approve. Just get out as soon as you can.” He pauses again and holds his hand up. “Promise?”

When Bolin was 8, and they were both hollow with hunger, they’d been chased out of a restaurant. The owner hadn’t liked the look of the two of them, skinny and dirty, with desperation too clear on their faces. Bolin had been trying to smile all day, but he’d finally burst into tears, shoving his snotty little face right into Mako’s shoulder, crying about how hungry he was and how unfair it was. They’d just wanted dumplings.

“I’ll take care of it,” Mako had said, and hoped he could make it true when Bolin looked up at him all giant green eyes.

He’d asked the same thing, then. Mako had promised, and crept back in that night to steal as many dumplings as he could carry.

He yanks Bolin into a tight hug. “Promise,” he says now, low and fierce, and with a lot less hope that he’ll be able to keep it. He thinks about Wu, and getting him through this.

“I love you,” Bolin mumbles into his shoulder.

“I love you too,” Mako says, squeezes him close, and then shoves. “Now go!”

Bolin does. He grabs the two guards and disappears down the hatch, and only when Mako can’t see his hair anymore does he settle back into the stance Zolt taught him so long ago. Wu is under the city, right now. Korra is taking on Kuvira, and Bolin is safe, and it’s up to Mako to stop this thing, or none of that will be true. He knows that in his bones.

It’s easier than it should be, to empty his mind, focus on his own chi, and pull electricity in great looping, crackling arcs from the control panel. He points, and it flows, and then it hurts, and Mako thinks about Wu’s face and his promise in the train station, and Bolin crying over dumplings, and grits his teeth and keeps going, even as pain sears through him and his sleeve explodes.

The world goes bright purple, then dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚡️💥☠️


	19. Book 2, Chapter 11

Mako would feel a lot better if he’d stayed unconscious. 

He wakes, he thinks, to a searing yellow light and the solid presence of Bolin, yanking him up out of the hot metal of the mech twisted around them. Somehow, he’s still alive. Mako wasn’t expecting that. 

He can’t seem to get a handle on his own thoughts. It’s like he’s floating somewhere above himself, or like the world is happening in flashes. There’s something he needs to do. They’re in the middle of a green expanse, and the familiar green calms his racing heart, even though Korra is missing. He searches, half-aware, through metal and vines. Jinora shakes her faraway head and Mako frowns, then winces as light flares up all over again. His body hurts, but he focuses on keeping himself upright, and then there is Korra, dragging Kuvira.

There’s something else he’s missing, but Mako doesn’t stay up long enough to figure out what it is. He tries to move toward Korra, surrounded by green—she lived too, somehow, so things are alright—and then something catches at his foot and someone is yelling his name as the world lurches and goes dark all over again.

* * *

When the Mako resurfaces the next time, everything is fuzzy. There’s a gentle hand on his shoulder, the only grounding thing, and he can hear a familiar voice snapping above his head, “—to be okay! No, don’t you dare leave him like this.”

What, Mako tries to ask, but nothing in his body is listening to him, and something else is keeping him right where he is. He leans as best he can into the hand, the familiar voice. Wu, above him, angry and scared.

He hears something about destruction and only so much we can do and might just lose it, and none of that makes any sense, but Wu makes a frustrated sound, close to Mako, so he leans closer still.

Fingers brush Mako’s hair off his forehead and he hears Wu say, voice low, “I don’t care who else needs help. You will take care of Mako now.”

There’s no way Mako’s that bad.

He tries to protest that he’ll be fine, he’s awake, but all he manages to do is make a small, pathetic sound. As Wu whirls and leans closer to him, enough that Mako can feel his body heat, he goes back under.

* * *

Mako wakes for the third time to a lot of pain and a heavy weight on his legs.

He can’t seem to make himself open his eyes again. A piercing ring echoes in his ears. The more Mako focuses the more his body hurts. He’s on something soft. His arm is killing him.

It takes way too much effort to wrench his eyes open, and as soon as he does he wants to close them again, because the light hurts. There’s a blurry dark shape in front of him.

Mako tries to focus on it, struggling up off the pillow. “Wu?”

The shape moves, and then Bolin’s face comes into view, looking haggard and tired, his body half slumped on the end of Mako’s bed. Mako tries not to think about the brief flare of disappointment and worry. “Nope, just your brother,” Bolin laughs, and he shifts gingerly forward, wrapping Mako’s shoulder in a tight hug. “Welcome back, bro.”

Mako lets his head drop against Bolin’s. He has so many questions, but his tongue is thick and heavy in his own mouth. Instead of asking any of them, he mumbles, “Water?” into Bolin’s shoulder. He smells like antiseptic and dumplings.

“Oh, yeah,” Bolin holds him tight for another moment before he pulls back. “Yeah. I’ll get you water.” His eyes flick over Mako’s face, the concern clear there. “Yep. Be right back.”

The weight lifts from Mako’s bed and Bolin slips out the door.

Maybe the memories half-flitting through Mako’s head weren’t a dream. It’s hazy, and the world tilts a bit as Mako drops back against the pillows, but—there was Korra, and there was Kuvira, appearing from light.

They won, he thinks. But he needs to make sure.

Bolin comes back a few minutes later with Kya on his heels. She props him up and helps him drink, slow and steady, and Mako bites down on his questions, or tries to, except he can’t stop himself from asking, “How bad is it?”

Kya’s face goes still, and Mako swallows thickly.

Her words are seared into his head for days afterward: nerve damage, almost irreversible, his chi blocked and his system fried by the jolt. She tells him that if Bolin hadn’t pulled him out of there he’d be dead, and that if Wu hadn’t insisted they look at him right away he would’ve lost his arm.

“Wu,” Mako says, too-fast, jolting up even though it hurts and makes Kya scowl at him. “He’s okay? Did everyone—”

“He’s fine,” a firm hand shoves him back down by his good shoulder, and Mako scowls. “He was here, until this morning,” she smiles tiredly at him. “That boy was persistent.”

“He was yelling,” Mako says, more uncertain than he wants to be.

“We weren’t getting to you fast enough,” Kya says, voice wry. 

“Stupid,” Mako mutters, even though warmth is curling up unbidden through him, replacing the coiled tension. Wu is alive, and safe, and not crushed under the heel of that monster. Mako lets out a slow breath. “Where is he now?”

Kya shakes her head with a look on her face that Mako can’t even start to decipher. “Probably on an airship to Ba Sing Se. I’m sure Tenzin knows, I’ll ask for you. Keep your arm still and try not to use it. I’ll be back later for another spirit water session.”

Bolin edges away from the door, letting Kya pass through it. “Thanks, Kya. I’ll make sure he stays in bed.”

“You’d better,” Kya says, pinning Bolin in place for a moment. He nods quickly, and Kya sighs and lets the door fall shut behind her.

“We won,” Mako says into the silence. “I didn’t make that up. Kuvira surrendered.”

“She did,” Bolin says, “she did, we won, her troops retreated. Korra’s pretty beat up too, and Asami. They’re in rooms near here.” He hovers over Mako, and even with his head still throbbing, Mako can see how tired he looks, the pinched lines of worry at his eyes and mouth that look so wrong on him.

“C’mere,” he says, tilting his head. It’s about all he can manage.

Bolin doesn’t even hesitate. He drops to the bed again, making Mako bounce a bit, and wraps Mako in another careful hug.

“Thanks, bro,” Mako mumbles into his shoulder as Bolin’s face presses into the pillow beside him. “For coming back for me.”

“We’re brothers,” Bolin says, squeezing him tighter, “we’re always going to be there for each other.”

Mako doesn’t say that he shouldn’t have come back, or that it was dangerous. He knows it wouldn’t have mattered: Bolin was always going to come back for him, no matter the risk.

* * *

When he wakes up again, it’s morning and his head is killing him and his arm feels like it’s on fire. He grits his teeth through it, lying awake with the sun prickling hot along his skin, until another healer shows up to tug off the bandages. Mako doesn’t look at it, focusing on the soft blue glow of spirit water running over his skin, soothing the fire and the itching but not the deep ache.

He really shouldn’t have made it out of there.

The thought keeps popping up, in the silence, with only the soft slosh of the spirit water and the wind outside. It isn’t that Mako wanted to die. He wants to live, he always does, but every time he does it seems lucky, somehow. 

Voices pass in the hallway but when the healer leaves, Mako is alone, and somehow both exhausted and too antsy to sleep. He’s been in bed for long enough, but his body won’t cooperate, which means he’s stuck, useless, in this small sterile room. It’s familiar: close, probably to the ones he and Bolin stayed in before: a bed, a small chest, a window with shutters instead of glass to let in the wind, a small table right next to him with a glass of water Bolin must have left, trapping a small piece of paper.

Mako blinks.

In Wu’s neat, looping handwriting is Mako’s name, half-obscured by the glass.

“What,” Mako says aloud, to remind himself he can talk, and spends an immensely frustrating few seconds twisting in the sheets, shoving himself up so he can reach for the note with his functioning arm. The numbness has started to recede from the injured one, leaving pins and pain in its wake. Mako isn’t sure which he prefers. 

It feels like a hard-won victory when he finally manages to snag the thing, even though the glass tips over and dumps the rest of its water onto the floor. Mako swallows, scowling, and focuses on the cheap paper in his good hand.

It’s thin stuff, the kind Wu hates. It isn’t even sealed, easy to unfold one-handed. Mako’s throat tightens. Wu probably didn’t even think about whether or not Mako would be able to hold it, except, it’s Wu, and he’s thoughtful like that.

> _Mako,_
> 
> _I really wish I could be there when you wake up, but I need to go to Ba Sing Se. It has that vacuum of leadership, like you said! I guess they need me to tell them what to do from here. We’ll see how that goes._
> 
> _I heard about what you did. You were very brave. You took her down, and for that, I’m proud. I knew you were something special, but you just have to go and prove it to me every day, don’t you? It’s just like you to have to go and show everybody else up, when what we all did was also good! But what you did was great. You’re a great, wonderful, brave person._
> 
> _I’m still very upset with you. I told you to promise me that you’d stay in one piece and you didn’t. If you don’t wake up, I will be more than furious at you and will pursue you into your next life. But that won’t happen, because you will wake up. I’m looking at you now, and you’re breathing, and that’s what matters._
> 
> _There’s a lot more I need to say to you, but I don’t want to do it in a letter. When you’re awake, call the Palace and let them know who you are. You’ll get to me. Don’t make me wait too long, or I’ll be even more upset at you._
> 
> _A few words are written and scratched out at the bottom. He can’t make out what they were. Finally, under all of the inky mess is just:_
> 
> _\- Wu_

He’s laughing, by the end, even though the note isn’t funny, because it’s exactly what Wu would say: demand Mako call him, like Mako has any idea how to just ring up the palace in Ba Sing Se looking for his boyfriend.

Who is the Earth King.

Officially, reluctantly, but there, because he wants to help his people. 

Mako folds the note back up with his eyes stinging and tucks it into the loose robe he’s wearing, right against his skin.

* * *

Air Temple Island slowly fills to bursting.

Mako’s not the only injured person here. He’s not even the worst-off: after another day he drags himself out of bed against Kya’s orders and takes a walk through the hallways, dodging healers and acolytes. Every room has at least one person in it looking ashy-gray and wrapped in stark white bandages, and Mako pauses and stares at them until he remembers not to, wondering how many didn’t even make it. Mako should leave: he’s really just taking up space that these people could use.

He has nothing to do. He wants to call Wu, but Mako has no idea how to reach Ba Sing Se, much less ask for Wu while he’s probably trying to keep his kingdom from falling apart. Pema won’t let him help in the kitchen again (“Look at you, you’re barely standing! Kya!”) and Beifong waves him off when he asks about helping coordinate the burgeoning relief effort.

“Zhu Li’s got it covered, kid,” she says grimly, and Mako starts to argue but she shakes her head, narrowing her eyes. “You did enough. Let the adults handle it for a while. We have a new shipment of supplies coming from Ba Sing Se that I need to get distributed.”

“I’m 22, I am an adult,” Mako says, frowning, until the meaning of those words sinks in and his eyes widen. “Wu sent supplies?”

Beifong arches one eyebrow at him. “The Earth King did, yeah.”

Mako looks away, his face hot. “Yeah. King Wu. Right. I can help distribute supplies. Give me a radio or something.” Bolin is out there right now, he doesn’t say, and Korra and Asami, channeling all of Asami’s grief into action. Wu’s rebuilding a government.

Mako’s feeling dizzy from walking too much, and his stomach is churning either from his breakfast or the lingering ache in his arm or from the fact that he’s been left behind. Again.

“Let me help,” he says again when Beifong lets the silence linger. 

“Nope,” Beifong says, her voice firm. “You’re out of commission. Sit tight until Kya gives you the all clear.”

“I can handle it,” Mako protests, but Beifong is already turning back to her radio, so Mako, bitterly, leaves her be.

He ends up in a corner of the courtyard, sitting on a wall with the breeze blowing through his hair. It looks ridiculous, he hasn’t been able to put it up in days and it’s all over his forehead. Wu would laugh.

It’s been three days since he first woke up. Wu’s note is still tucked into the soft robes he’s been given to wear—his uniform, apparently, wasn’t salvageable, and the rest of his clothes were destroyed along with the Four Elements—and Mako keeps touching it, running his thumb over the soft imprint of his name.

Wu’s angry, he said. Mako guesses he can’t blame him, except he warned Wu that he would probably do something stupid, and the bits and pieces he’s picked up about the evacuation suggest that he wasn’t alone in making snap decisions to save people.

More than anything, Mako wants to hear his voice. Make sure he’s okay on his own in that huge palace, that he’s safe, that he has enough people there who support him. 

To check, if he’s honest with himself, where they stand. There are so many other things to worry about: rebuilding the city and making sure Wu’s safe and getting the railways back up and running, but Mako’s own words keep coming back to him, and he can’t shake the image of Wu’s eyes going wide. Funny how telling someone he loves them is only terrifying after the fact.

I’m still very upset with you. Mako traces his thumb over the words, frowning. He smudged the ink a bit.

“Mako!” 

Mako shoves the note quickly back into his clothes as Ikki walks up the stairs toward him, the wind snatching at her clothes. She looks tired, but she’s smiling, trailed by Jinora.

“What’re you doing?” She asks when she’s close enough. “You looked kind of lonely so we wanted to make sure you were okay. I heard about what you did! That was amazing.”

“Ikki, leave him alone, he’s healing,” Jinora says, but Mako waves a hand, and Ikki settles onto the wall beside him, smiling. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine. No one will let me help with anything.”

“That’s silly,” Ikki nods firmly, “there’s so much to do! You should be allowed to help!”

“Not if you hurt yourself further by helping,” Jinora says, frowning at Mako. She’s always been a bit too wise for her age.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Mako says quietly. “Until Kya gives me the all-clear, I’m stuck. It sounds like they really need the help in the city.”

“We just came from the refugee camps,” Jinora says. “I can fill you in, if it makes you feel better?”

It’s nothing like going to actually help out, actually being useful instead of just sitting here taking up resources and space, but Mako nods. “Yeah. Tell me what’s been going on.”

What’s been going in, apparently, is that the city is a mess. Korra opened a new spirit portal when she took out the weapon, and spirits have flooded the city in the destruction, but Asami’s already got the rail lines starting to clear with the help of some earthbenders that Wu sent along with his supplies.

Like a real leader. Mako isn’t even suprised anymore at the sharp upswell of affection and warmth at the mention of his name, and everything he’s doing. He loves Wu so much, these days, that it sort of hurts. He’s so proud. 

Mako really needs to tell him that.

“Hey,” he says, when Ikki pauses in her recounting of Korra coralling some spirits into helping move a building, “There’s a phone here, right?

“Who do you need to call?” Ikki asks, her eyes bright and curious. Mako swallows. The sun is just starting to sink over the bay. Mako has no idea what Wu’s schedule is like, but he has to be eating dinner right about now. Mako probably won’t be interrupting some important meeting.

“I, uh. I really need to call the palace. In Ba Sing Se. Somehow.”

“That palace?” Ikki gasps, her eyes going wide. “You need to talk to Prince Wu? He’s so dreamy.”

“Ikki,” Jinora chides with a laugh, “I think daddy has the number. I can ask him for you. You can use the phone in his office.”

Mako should figure out what he’s going to say. “Thanks, Jinora.” She doesn’t move, and Mako tracks the sun for a second longer. “Now?”

Smiling, Jinora shifts to her feet. “I’ll see if daddy’s around.”

“What do you need to say to the Prince?” Ikki asks as Jinora jogs up the stairs. She doesn’t look like she wants to leave him, her dark eyes locked on Mako. All of the Airbender kids are smart, but Ikki might be the smartest.

He opens his mouth, closes it again, and eventually says, “He wrote me a note, before he left. I need to make sure he’s okay. And he’s mad at me. Apparently.”

Ikki’s eyes narrow.

Mako coughs and looks away, his cheeks going hot. 

Ikki makes a high, squeaky sound. “It’s you! Your the one his heart belongs to! Oh,” she squeals, grabbing his good hand. “That’s so romantic!”

“Ikki!” Mako yanks his hand back, glaring. “Keep your voice down. We haven’t, where did you get that idea?”

“He said it! When you two were here! Well, and he never left your room, until he had to go,” she tells him, her smile too large.

Definitely the smartest one. Or at least the most observant. Mako debates telling her that she’s making things up but he can’t bring himself to say it. He leans closer, his heart pounding. “You can’t tell anyone. Okay? Wu has enough to worry about right now.”

“I won’t,” she promises, but she’s still looking at him with those giant eyes. She can’t seem to help asking, “are you in love?”

“Yeah,” Mako says quietly. The simple truth, out loud, sears right through him. 

Ikki smiles, soft and sweet. “That’s so cute.” She pauses, staring at him for a moment. “I will make sure that you can talk to the Prince! You sit there.”

In a rush of air, Ikki is on her feet and running up the stairs after Jinora.

Jinora reappears eventually, when the sun has almost sunk below the horizon, with the number. Before she can hand it over, Ikki snatches it from her, smiling. She helps Mako make his way to Tenzin’s office. She dials the numbers for him, then smiles brightly at him as she slips back out the door, leaving Mako alone with the phone pressed to his ear and his heart pounding.

He stares sightlessly at the looping writing on Wu’s note, listening to the ring.

Someone picks up and in a crisp accent, asks him to state his business and his name. Mako curls his fingers into the paper and hopes that Wu was right, and that he’s not just making a fool of himself to some government official.

“It’s Mako,” he says, like they know him, and then groans and continues, stiff and unsure, “Wu—the King—wanted to… he wrote me a note.” He should have thought this out beforehand. They probably get a thousand calls like this.

“Mako,” the person says, “oh, yes. The King is expecting your call. Please hold.” With that, Mako is waiting again in the heavy silence of Tenzin’s study. The whole thing is covered in papers, even the floor at his feet. Evacuation orders and lists of supplies peek out from under damage repoorts. Apparently the entire business district was leveled.

There’s no way the entire palace knows that Wu wanted Mako to call him.

Then again, Mako has no earthly idea how being a King actually works, day to day. As far as he could tell Hou-Ting spent most of her time yelling at her people and stealing airbenders, and there’s no way Wu is going to be that kind of ruler. He’ll be much better than his aunt. Mako knows that much.

He almost isn’t expecting it when a warm, familiar voice says, “Mako?” 

Mako’s breath catches.

“Wu,” he says, too-fast as relief and excitement and warmth spin through him fast enough to make him dizzy. “I thought—hi.”

“Mako,” Wu says again, and he can hear the matching relief in Wu’s voice, and smiles ridiculously down at his own bandaged hand. “You’re okay! I’m so happy to hear your voice. You’re okay, right?”

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“I suppose you are,” Wu laughs weakly, “I was so worried. You were just lying there, unconscious, and I—when did you wake up? How’s your arm?”

Useless, aching, getting in the way. Mako swallows around those words and goes with, “Not great.” His voice comes out a little strained. “It’s all wrapped up. I can’t move it. Or bend with it. Obviously. But I’m out of bed. Have been for a few days. No one will let me do anything. They’re treating me like I’m made of glass.”

“You deserve a break,” Wu says softly. After a second, he asks, “a few days?”

There’s something odd in his voice, but Mako can’t piece it together without seeing his face. “Yeah, I woke up… three days ago. I don’t think Kya knows I’m here. She’ll probably force me back when she finds out.”

“Is the rest of you okay?” Wu asks, voice strained. There’s probably a little furrow between his brows, his mouth pulling down at the corners. Mako can see it as clear as anything, except Wu is miles and miles away.

Mako swallows. “I’m fine, Wu, you don’t need to worry.”

“Of course I’m going to worry about you,” Wu says emphatically, and he sounds a little more like himself. “I wouldn’t have left if I didn’t have to! And Kya promised me that you were gonna wake up. That woman is something else.”

Mako snorts. “You yelled at her.”

“I might have,” he can hear the smile in Wu’s voice, and also the moment it fades away. “They weren’t taking care of you! Your arm was, it was really bad, Mako. And you were out cold. What was I supposed to do?”

“Not yell at the healers?” Mako laughs. “It’s really good to hear your voice. I miss you.”

Wu makes a small noise that crackles over the phone line. “I miss you too. I miss you so much, Mako. It hurt to leave you, to know you weren’t gonna be able to come with me,” he sucks in a breath, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“But you had to,” Mako says quietly. He wishes Wu were here instead of miles away but Mako knows he’s not the most important thing right now. “Had to go be the King. Is it official?”

“I still don’t have a crown,” Wu says with another quiet laugh, “but I guess I am. People are calling me that. Not sure why it’s any different than a week ago, except that Kuvira isn’t in charge anymore. People are actually listening to me. I don’t think they expected me to do much, but I have to.”

He sounds resigned and very tired. “Sounds like you’ve done a lot. Beifong told me about the supplies you were sending. That’s… amazing, Wu. We need it. The city’s a mess.” He’s a mess, too, but he doesn’t need to worry Wu any more than he has. His head is already starting to hurt from being up too long.

“It’s kind of my fault. My country’s fault? So I have to help,” Wu tells him. “I heard what you did, to take out Kuvira.”

“Bo told you,” Mako guesses, his mouth twisting.

“He did,” Wu says quietly. “I think I understand why you did it, but that was, it was so dangerous, Mako.”

“I know it was dangerous,” Mako snaps. “I’m not an idiot. I knew what I was getting into.”

“Mako,” Wu sounds as tired as Mako feels, “I really don’t want to argue with you about this. I just… was scared.”

The feeling in his voice, soft and sad and raw, is enough to snuff out the last spark of Mako’s frustration. He dips his head, sighing heavy into the cold metal. None of that, really, is what he wants to say, but Mako is lost a little bit in everything that he needs to say.

One step at a time. 

“I know,” he says, his voice low. “I’m sorry. That I worried you. And—upset you.”

“Thank you,” Wu says softly, “for saying that. I think you did the right thing, I just wish you hadn’t had to put yourself in so much danger.”

Mako swallows. “There wasn’t any other way. I don’t—there’s not a choice. In these things. I’ve never had a choice. You just have to do it, if you can.”

“But I wish _you_ didn’t have to,” Wu tells him, voice earnest, “you mean so much to me, Mako. Doing something like that, putting yourself in danger like that—when I found you and Bolin,” he pauses for a long, heavy moment, “I need you to know how important you are to me. Because when you do something stupidly brave like that, you aren’t just hurting yourself.”

“That’s the thing,” Mako says, tight and small. “You’re important to me. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“So why can something happen to you?” Wu asks quietly, “Mako, if you had,” he doesn’t say the word, but he doesn't really need to.

“But I didn’t,” Mako says firmly, hating the crack in his voice. “I’m here. I’m fine,” even though he has to swallow around the hot rush of feeling sweeping up through him at Wu’s words. He doesn’t know why, except that maybe Wu is right. That makes sense. Wu is right about a lot more than he knows.

“You are,” Wu agrees quietly, “but I need you to know it. I didn’t have a chance to tell you—I didn’t take the chance to tell you. So I need to say it now and you need to understand why you can’t do that to me again,” he sucks in a breath before saying, “I love you too, Mako. I love you so much that it hurts.”

Mako wasn’t prepared, really, to hear it like that, rushed and full of the same feeling echoed in his own blood, right now. He ducks his head and lets the words wash over him, pressing the phone tight against his ear like he can get through it, if he tries hard enough. He wants to.

“I wish,” he says, tight, a little shaky, “you were here. I didn’t think I’d wake up, Wu. I thought—”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Wu breathes raggedly, “if you didn’t wake up, I don’t know what I would do, I don’t know if I could—” he groans and Mako wishes he could yank Wu close, right then, except he’s in the palace and people would see. He swallows hard around the hot swell of feeling pricking at the back of his eyes.

“I don’t even know,” he starts, and his voice is tight but this is important enough to press through, he has to say this right, “I needed you. To be okay. And you are, and I’m stuck here while you’re… changing things, and sending help.” And for once, Mako doesn’t have answers to any of the questions swirling around him, no matter how much time he has to think them over. He doesn’t know how to do this, the waiting and the asking, but he has to. “How do we do this?”

“How do we what?” Wu asks, barely a whisper over the crackling line.

“Us,” Mako breathes. “You’re a king, Wu. I’m—we kept… saying. That we’d deal with it, when this was over. It’s over, and I still don’t know.”

Silence hangs between them for longer than Mako is comfortable with.

Eventually, Wu says, “I don’t either. But I do know that I want to do this. I want to be with you, as long as, as long as you still want to be with me.”

“Yeah—” Mako chokes out, almost laughing, “of course I do. That isn’t a question.”

“Oh good,” Wu laughs weakly, “okay. Then, then we figure it out together. Okay?”

Mako loves him so much. Only Wu can do this to him: take all his questions, and all the worry that keeps him up at night, planning out options so he isn’t taken by surprise, and listen and pull out answers as easy as anything. “So, what, I just keep calling the palace and annoying your—whoever that was. Secretary? Do you have a secretary now?”

“I do,” Wu laughs, really laughs, this time. “I can’t tell if he loves me or hates me. Uh, I have a personal number, now. I’ll get that for you,” there’s some shuffling over the line, and he can just hear Wu talking to someone before he’s back on the line, saying, “you can’t write it down, can you?”

“Uh. I might—hold on.” Mako frowns, and tilts his head as far as he can, pinning the phone between his ear and his shoulder and dropping the reciever onto its stand. He has to steal one of Tenzin’s pens, and a scrap of paper, but he manages, with some shuffling. “Okay. Tell me. I got this.”

“Yeah, you do,” Wu says with so much affection in his voice that Mako has to roll his eyes at himself, it makes him smile so wide. He’s as ridiculous as Wu, apparently. No wonder they work.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says, when Wu’s rattled the number off. “I want to hear about everything you’re doing.”

“I can’t wait to tell you,” Wu laughs before sighing, “I should probably go. I was in a meeting with some of Auntie’s ancient advisors. They didn’t seem happy that I left… but maybe it’s good to make them sweat a little.”

“You got this, too.” Mako says, smiling. 

“Thanks,” Wu murmurs, then, after a moment, he asks, “can you tell me again?”

Mako grins. “That you got this, or that I love you?”

“Both. But mostly the love one,” Mako can hear the smile in Wu’s voice.

“I love you,” he breathes. 

Wu sighs softly, murmuring, “thank you. Stay in one piece this time, okay?”

Mako snorts. “This time? I will. Promise.”

“You’d better,” Wu tells him fervently. Before he hangs up, Wu adds on a breath, “I love you,” then the call goes dead.

Mako lets the receiver drop as exhaustion washes over him all at once.

He isn’t even surprised that Jinora and Ikki immediately open the door with matching grins on their faces.

“Don’t,” he says, as Ikki opens her mouth. She snaps it shut again with a huff as Jinora laughs and comes over to help him up.

* * *

They do talk the next day, but not for very long. After three years of doing very little, Wu is suddenly incredibly busy rebuilding his kingdom and Republic City at the same time. But that doesn’t stop him from talking to Mako at least once a week, telling him about everything he’s trying to do to stem the chaos Kuvira caused.

Wu is a bright spot in what is otherwise an excruciatingly boring and frustrating recovery. After a few days, Korra and Asami come by with Pai Sho, and Mako loses horribly to Asami and manages to make her smile for a bit. At least that makes him feel like he did something until they leave, and he’s alone again.

Kya gives him a tea to help him manage the pain, and releases him, officially, from bedrest, which means Mako is both useless and homeless, because the Four Elements didn’t make it through the blast, and his home before that was an airship with Korra, and before that his desk.

Mako has, maybe, been unmoored for a long time. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. There’s so much to fix, and he can’t even move his arm. The chi pathways are damaged, Kya told him, which means he might not be able to bend with it. Mako tries: he focuses all his energy, everything, trying to feel the flames that have been there his whole life. The air over his palm stays cool, unmoved.

Mako rewraps it in disgust.

He stays on Air Temple Island because there’s nowhere else to go, and keeps Bolin company when he comes back exhausted from removing rubble, and tries not to miss Wu. That doesn’t work, either, especially because Varrick and Zhu Li actually start planning their wedding. They’re not all over each other, exactly, but every time Mako sees them their hands are wrapped together and they’re smiling, and he thinks about Wu and wonders what people would say, if they held hands like that.

Wu would understand. He’s had to think about what people would say his entire life. Now more than ever: half of what he’s working through seems to be about what people think, and what they’re comfortable with, and trying to convince insular councilors that it’s worth it to reach out to the rest of the world, that Earth Kingdom isn’t a monolith.

It’s working, and Mako is fiercely proud. He burns with it, most days, hearing Wu’s name tossed around more and more. He’s becoming a popular figure as far as Mako can tell, and he wishes that he could actually see Wu’s face when he tells him that.

“I’m serious,” he says, grinning down at Tenzin’s desk. “Even Raiko said you were,” he drops his voice, putting as much bluster into it as he can, “not doing as badly as you could.”

Wu laughs, the sound so sweet and familiar. It’s almost like he’s there, with Mako. “He said that? Well, color me flattered. I’m glad it’s all paying off, what we’re doing.”

“What you’re doing,” Mako corrects. “At least you’re doing something.”

“Mako,” he can hear the frown in Wu’s voice, “you’re healing, you have to give yourself a break.”

Mako bites down on a frustrated sound. “I don’t,” he starts, and then gives up and lets himself groan. His arm itches under the bandages he wrapped it in this morning. “I don’t want a break. I need to do… something.”

“Wanna trade?” Wu offers.

“I would,” Mako says quietly, instead of the joke he almost made about sitting in a room full of stuffy old men all day. “At least then I’d… be useful.”

“You don’t have to be useful all the time,” Wu tells him, voice firm, “I was useless for the first 24 years of my life! And now look at me. Running a country. Who knows why they let me do it.”

“Have to,” Mako offers with the beginnings of a smile.

“Okay, but still!” Wu’s laughing again, now, “I’ll still love you if you’re useless, Mako.”

Mako’s grin takes over his face. It’s a silly thing to say, and Wu is laughing, and affection curls into his bones. “Tell me more about the city.”

“Okay, but don’t think I don’t know you’re changing the subject,” Wu teases, then jumps into tellng him about the city, how the people are doing, how things have changed, for another few minutes, and Mako would ordinarily stop listening but he’s kind of hanging on Wu’s every word, because it’s better than thinking about the wedding.

It’s in a week. 

Mako got an invitation, for some reason, despite everything that happened with him and Varrick, and Bolin is officiating. He’s been practicing his speech on anyone he can corner long enough to listen for the last three days, which means Mako’s heard at least ten variations of it.

It’s going to be opulent and ridiculous, because it’s Varrick. Wu would probably love it.

Mako blinks. He has a plus-one. Wu sounds exhausted from all his projects, and they keep talking about the next time they’ll be able to see each other but they haven’t figured out when.

“Wu,” he says, as Wu winds down from describing the idea he has for the old Lower Ring. “D’you think you could get away for a few days?”

“Yes,” Wu says immediately, then he adds, sheepishly, “when?”

Mako bites down on a grin. Wu’s secretary probably has something to say about how quickly he agreed, but Mako isn’t going to push it. “In a week. Varrick’s wedding. You should come with me.”

“To a wedding?” Wu asks on a breath. “Yes. Okay. I’ll make it happen.”

“Having you there will make it a lot more bearable,” Mako tells him. “You’ll like it. He’s making backdrops.”

“Oh, interesting choice. It could be very tacky,” Wu hums, “but it is Varrick.”

“So it’ll be tacky no matter what,” Mako finishes, laughing. “So you’ll be there? You really think you can? I don’t know how much longer I can do this phone thing.”

“I will be there,” Wu says with a promise in his voice. Mako wonders about the surety of it: he has a lot more important things to do than fly to Republic City for a few days to see his boyfriend. “I want to see you. I want to see your face.”

Mako doesn’t even try not to laugh. “My face, huh?”

“I miss seeing your face. And that little crinkle you get between your eyebrows,” Wu sighs, “your face is so handsome, Mako. I miss looking at it.”

“Wu,” Mako groans, pressing his mouth into his hand. He’s still smiling against his own palm. “Tell me more about that Lower Ring project.”

“Aw, Mako. You have a great face,” Wu laughs before launching into a detailed account of everything he’s working on for improving the Lower Ring.

* * *

“Mako! You got a package! From Ba Sing Se,” Bolin’s voice startles Mako out of the book he was reading. The door slides open a second later, and Bolin bursts in with a long box held up like a weapon.

Mako shoves the book away—one of Jinora’s crappy, weirdly-interesting romance novels—as Bolin drops the box onto his desk with a thud. He’s grinning, and there’s a bit of dirt smudged across his nose. Mako resists the urge to lean up and rub it off.

“From who?” It’s a very nice-looking box. There’s a little postmark with his name scrawled in neat handwriting at the top left corner, followed by a stylized badgermole stamped in wax.

That answers the question of who it’s from. He smiles down at it, running his fingers along the edge.

“Open it!” Bolin insists. He’s always been like this about packages and gifts. Probably because he never really got any unless Mako was able to scrounge something up for his birthday. He pushes it closer to Mako, his eyes wide and pressing.

“Okay, okay,” Mako relents, laughing. “Calm down, Bo, it’s a box.” It’s a fancy box, all heavy paper. A note with Mako’s name on it sits on the tissue paper just under the lid.

Mako grabs it before Bolin can ask what it is. He’ll read it later. 

Under the tissue paper is exactly what Mako realizes he should have expected: a suit, so dark a red it’s almost brown, with detailing on the shoulders like the first nice jacket Mako ever bought for himself. Knowing Wu, this box probably has everything he’ll need down to shoes. The wedding is tomorrow, and Mako was just going to borrow a suit from Bolin. He should’ve known.

“Whoa, that’s fancy,” Bolin whispers, leaning over to peer at the suit as Mako lifts it out piece by piece.

It is really nice. Mako can’t stop smiling as he pulls out a bright red swath of fabric almost the same color as his old scarf. “Wu probably got it custom made. He is the Earth King.”

Bolin blinks. “Wu made you a suit?”

“He’d refuse to be seen with me if I showed up in air robes,” Mako says dryly. 

“Showed up to… what?” Bolin looks confused, even as his fingers drag over the expensive fabrics.

Oh. Right.

Mako glances down at the note on his lap, then back up at Bolin. “The wedding. I invited him.”

“You invited your boss?” Bolin frowns at him, “why? I mean, he was cool, but he’s your boss!”

Mako probably shouldn’t tell him without Wu here, because Bolin can’t keep a secret to save his life, but—it’s Bolin.

“He’s,” he starts. Bolin blinks, and nerves curl abruptly through Mako’s belly, uncomfortable and tight. He resists the urge to hunch down into the loose robes. “Close the door.”

“Uh, okay,” Frowning, Bolin stands to push the door shut. “What's going on?” 

He looks concerned, mostly, his eyes wide. Of everyone in Mako’s life, Bolin has seen the worst parts of himself: the disaster he created with Korra and Asami, the fear and anger of their days with the Triple Threats when Mako was all angry bluster, making himself as big as possible so they’d get left alone. Bolin knows him down to the deepest parts of himself, and loves Mako anyway. Bolin came to get him from the engine room just to keep him alive.

Mako swallows, and makes himself meet Bolin’s eyes. “He’s not my boss anymore, for one thing. And we’re,” dating, he almost says, but it still doesn’t feel like the right word. What would Wu say? Something flippant, probably, to hide how important it was to him. Like, lover or my man, which Mako obviously cannot say to his brother.

This shouldn’t be as hard as it is. 

“Mako?” Bolin asks, glancing over his face. 

“He’s my boyfriend,” Mako says, too-quickly, his face hot. “And. Has been. For a while. So.”

Bolin blinks. Then blinks again. Then his frown deepens. “He’s your boyfriend? Like boyfriend-boyfriend. Like you’re dating. You’re dating Wu. The Earth King. That Wu.”

“Yes, Bolin,” Mako snaps. “That Wu. You met him. You had dinner with him.”

“Hey! Give me a second to catch up here,” Bolin holds out his hands. “Okay. You’re dating the Earth King. That’s cool. That’s great!” Bolin nods his head and Mako swears he can see the thoughts connecting in Bolin’s head. “And you’re bringing him to the wedding. You’re bringing him as your date! Mako,” he almost punches Mako in the arm, but then seems to remember Mako’s injury and pulls back sheepishly. “Oops, sorry.”

“So you’re… okay with that,” Mako says, almost unnecessarily, because Bolin just said it was great. 

“Well, yeah. If you’re happy,” Bolin’s grinning at him with that Bolin grin of his: too big and excited and genuine. “Man, you’re dating a King! That’s wild. I didn’t think there was a step up from Avatar.”

Mako can’t help smiling back, a little loose with relief. “Don’t tell Korra you said that. She’s already mad he got invited to meetings she didn’t.”

“My lips are sealed,” Bolin promises, even thought he seems like he’s bursting with this information. He’s practicaly bouncing in place. “So? How long have you been dating? How’d it happen? Tell me!”

Mako coughs, slightly. “You know. I was his bodyguard for a few years. And… then we got closer,” he grins to himself, “and then I smiled at him or something.”

“Aw, Mako. You old charmer,” Bolin laughs, “well, good! At least you won’t sulk at the wedding now.”

Mako narrows his eyes. “I was never going to sulk at the wedding,” he says, and ignores Bolin’s answering snort. “Help me try the jacket on.”

The jacket fits perfectly. How Wu had his measurements on hand, Mako will never know. It’s a little hard to get on with his arm, but once they manage it, it’s very worth it.

“Wow, he must really like you,” Bolin laughs as he smooths his hands over the shoulders of Mako’s jacket. 

“He likes making me wear fancy stuff,” Mako says dryly. “And he’s… Wu. This is what he does.”

Bolin shakes his head, “you and the King. Man, how did I not see that?”

Mako meets his eyes again. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Bolin’s smile slips a little. “Yeah? You can tell me anything, bro.”

“I know,” Mako says. He has to look away from the concern on Bolin’s face. “But we’ve never… talked about. That kind of thing.”

“What kinda thing? We’ve talked about your girlfriends before,” Bolin says.

“But not boyfriends,” Mako says quietly. “I mean. It’s just Wu. He’s the only one.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Bolin’s voice is soft, “Mako, I don’t care about that at all.” He claps a hand on Mako’s good shoulder, “really, I don’t. Guy, girl, whoever. As long as he cares about you, that’s what’s important.”

It’s exactly what Mako knew he would say, but hearing it from his lips is something completely different. But of course Bolin isn’t angry: he’s grown up, so much, and his heart is bigger than anyone else’s. He reaches up, curling his hand over Bolin’s on his own shoulder. “Thanks, Bo.”

“Aw, come here,” Bolin pulls Mako into a hug. He’s probably wrinkling the suit, “you’re dating a king! We’re doing pretty well for ourselves, huh?”

Mako wraps his good arm around Bolin’s shoulders as far as he can get it. “Now you just have to nail your speech.”

Bolin groans, “I’m trying! They’re so perfect for each other but it’s hard to really define why, you know?”

“I dunno,” Mako says with a shrug more casual than he feels. “Sometimes there’s no explanation for why people love each other. They just… work.”

“They are pretty inexplicable, huh?” Bolin smiles at him and squeezes his shoulders, “that’s it! They’re inexplicable. I need to write that down.”

“Don’t just steal all my lines, bro,” Mako snorts, and laughs as Bolin just waves his hand wildly for a pen.

“Aw, come on! But that’s so good,” Bolin pouts at him but goes to drag a pen from the desk drawer.

Like him and Wu, Mako thinks. But even if he can’t tell Bolin exactly how it got started, and even if his friends still think of Wu as his annoying boss, Wu’s part of his life. A bigger part, and a more important part, than Mako ever would have guessed.

Eventually, they end up with a draft of a speech that actually might work, and Bolin helps him back out of the suit until Mako waves him off.

“I got the rest,” he says quietly. “Go eat, your stomach’s ridiculous.”

“Writing makes me hungry!” Bolin laughs, pulling Mako into a short hug. “Thanks. For the help.”

Mako squeezes him with the one arm that’s listening to him. “Thanks for… being okay with Wu.”

“Hey, Mako,” Bolin pulls back to smile at him, “you know I love you no matter what. We’re brothers! We’re in this together. Forever. Okay?”

“Like it or not,” Mako grins. “Yeah. I got it. Go eat.”

Bolin just smiles and squeezes his good shoulder before he slips out the door. If anyone was there Mako would be embarrassed about how quickly he goes for the note, but it’s just him, and Wu bought him a suit. Again. 

> _Mako,_
> 
> _You’re going to say that you don’t need this. And maybe you don’t need it exactly, but I needed to get it for you._
> 
> _Remember when you promised to take me on a date? I can’t wait to be your date._
> 
> _\- Wu_

Huh.

Maybe Mako will finally feel like it’s the right word. He hadn’t really thought of it that way, but Wu is technically his date to the wedding.

Now Mako just has to wait for him to actually get here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there!


	20. Book 2, Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during season 4, episode 13

Bolin looks strangely nervous for a guy who starred in at least three movers and once commissioned a statue of himself.

He’s standing up at the front of the crowd with Pabu on his shoulder while the chatter slowly dies down. Varrick should be walking up to join him any minute.

The chair beside Mako is still empty.

He’d waited half the day before finally just getting Bolin to help him get into his suit, and now the sun is setting and the ceremony is about to start and Wu isn’t here. Mako’s trying not to look like it matters, but he keeps twisting around in his chair, scanning the back of the pavilion for a familiar flash of green.

Asami has definitely noticed. 

“He is the King,” she murmurs as he turns back again, frowning. “He probably got caught up in official business. It’s hard enough for me to take a day off.”

“He said he would be here,” Mako whispers back. “I just. Want to make sure he doesn’t burst into the middle of the ceremony.”

Korra snorts a laugh. “Varrick would hate that. Wu better not take away from his big moment.”

“No,” Mako shakes his head, leaning around Asami to look at her. “He wouldn’t do that. But he doesn’t have a lot of time.”

And it isn’t about that, really. Mako’s been looking forward to seeing him all day, has had to keep himself busy just to have somewhere to put the nervous energy. He woke up before the sun rose and practically threw himself into the kitchen to help Pema with breakfast, and then pushed his way into helping set up this pavilion and all the tables, and still Wu would float into his head every few seconds. Mako is kind of a mess. He just wants Wu to be here already so that he can actually focus again.

As if one cue, a hand touches Mako’s shoulder. 

When he turns around to tell whoever it is that the seat is reserved, no matter how late its occupant is, there’s Wu, grinning softly at him. Mako’s breath catches hard in his throat. 

“Hi,” Wu says quietly. “Is this seat for me?”

He looks amazing: trim and polished and smiling, his suit as perfect as always, a little tired, and oddly nervous. One hair is escaping the coif of his bangs, curling back up over his forehead. 

Mako wants to kiss him so badly.

But they’re in the middle of a crowd of people, so Mako shoves the urge down, shakes his head and pats the chair beside him. “It’s about to start.”

“I know. I was late to the airship,” Wu sinks down into the seat, his arm brushing Mako’s shoulder. That little touch shouldn’t affect him quite so much, but Mako’s suit is too-warm and too-tight, suddenly, and he can’t seem to look away. 

Wu’s gaze slips from Mako’s eyes down to his mouth. For a moment he just pauses. His lips part silently. Under the swell of suitably-dramatic music, Wu meets Mako’s eyes again and murmurs, “How’s your arm?”

“Useless,” Mako breathes. It takes all his willpower not to lean over now and kiss Wu anyway. He compromises and flips his hand over to squeeze Wu’s palm in the small space between their chairs. He wants to say more—that he figured Wu would show up because it isn’t like him to miss out on a party, that he looks incredible for someone who just ran off an airship—but the music shifts into something softer and the blue lanterns lining the aisle flare to life.

Mako keeps their fingers tangled together, out of sight.

Their hands stay locked together through the whole ceremony. Wu starts to sniffle when they say their vows, and Mako even finds himself smiling a bit. He still doesn’t like Varrick and Zhu Li deserves better, but Bolin’s right: they made it through the destruction, again, and Wu is here and whole and beautiful. 

When Varrick and Zhu Li walk back down the aisle, their hands finally part so Wu can clap loudly enough for the both of them.

“You’re a sap,” he murmurs in Wu’s ear as the fireworks die down.

Wu looks up at him, his eyes red-ringed, expression soft and open. “Yes,” Wu sniffs, shifting back to lean into Mako’s good side. “And proud of it.”

He smells like the soap he loves and his favorite cologne, familiar and warm.

“Hey—” Mako starts to say as people shift up around them, but before he can get the words out a hand from behind them lands on Wu’s shoulder.

“King Wu!” She says, her voice full of excitement. Mako twists to see a woman he vaguely recognizes smiling brightly. “It’s been so long!”

“Madame Chen!” Wu smiles at her, but his eyes flick back to Mako apologetically. “It really has been,” he kisses each of her cheeks, coming away with a little bit of her lipstick on his skin. Mako stares at the smudges for a moment, frowning slightly until the name rings a bell. The woman from the party, almost a year ago, now. In the green silk dress.

She’s wearing something completely different now, a warm, gold-toned thing that wraps around her body. It looks expensive. 

Mako thinks, anyway. It’s hard to focus on her dress when she’s lingering so close to Wu, one hand braced on his arm while she talks about the evacuation and how hard it was. “I was so worried,” she’s saying, her eyes bright, “until I heard your voice on the radio, and you made it sound so easy! I packed up my things right then and headed out of the city.”

Wu’s cheeks flush and he grins, “Thank you. I’m glad you were able to get out so quickly.”

“We’ll miss you here in the city,” Madame Chen says, “I was just thinking of throwing a little get-together to celebrate our victory but then, you’re probably too busy for that sort of thing now!”

Mako’s about to just butt in, politeness aside, when someone comes up on his left side who, it turns out, recognizes him from his pro-bending days and is practically vibrating with excitement to talk to him. Mako tries to be polite, but it’s hard when Wu’s being tugged away from him by Madame Chen.

By the time Mako manages to get himself out of the conversation, Wu’s been drawn into a full-on circle of people who apparently want to know about his plans for the Earth Kingdom. He actually looks like he’s enjoying himself, flushed with pride and pleasure at the attention, his hands waving as he sketches out all his ideas in midair.

He meets Mako’s eyes again over someone’s shoulder, pauses, and then smiles sheepishly, mouthing something that Mako can’t make out as the group bursts into laughter.

“Mako!”

Mako whirls just in time to catch Rohan before he slams straight into Mako’s knees, and looks up to see Pema come to a halt, fanning her own face.

“Thank goodness,” she says, as Mako clamps a hand on Rohan’s tiny shoulder to keep him still. “He got away from me the second the ceremony ended! Good instincts.”

Rohan squirms under his hand, and Mako steers him straight into Pema’s arms. “Rohan’s pretty easy compared to trying to keep Bolin alive. Should’ve seen him the day he figured out his bending.” There were a lot of earthquakes in their small house that day. Mako remembers having to talk Bolin off a pillar he’d accidentally put himself onto.

“This one’s another airbender,” Pema says dryly. Rohan’s tiny fingers curl into her hair. He laughs, and wind blows up around her hair, sending strands flying. “Lucky me.”

Mako has to work very hard to stifle his own laughter. “Can I help you get him settled? At your table?”

“Oh,” she looks a little surprised, but smiles, “yes, that’d be nice. Tenzin’s out there schmoozing, so it’s just me and, well,” she hefts Rohan in her arms.

“I’d offer to hold him, but,” Mako shrugs his bad shoulder with a grimace. He can at least walk at Pema’s side near Rohan to keep him from shoving himself out of her arms as they dodge around people on the steps. 

The island has never been so loud. Even right after the invasion, when it was the base of operations for Raiko and Beifong and a field hospital at the same time, it was mostly grimly quiet. Now laughter echoes off all that stone, carried through the humid air under the music. Varrick hired two separate bands for the event, because he’s Varrick, and the melodies shift into something brighter as they head up the stone steps toward all the tables. It’s kind of nice, and kind of a lot. Mako wishes he’d had time to talk to Wu somewhere quieter.

“That is a very nice suit, Mako,” Pema says once she’s settled and Rohan has a piece of fruit to distract him. 

Mako looks up sharply, meeting her eyes for a moment, but she’s just smiling at him. She doesn’t know. There’s no way she can know, unless Ikki told her, which—well. Mako isn’t even sure how they’re going to handle telling people.

“Thanks,” he says a little too late, hoping his face isn’t as hot as it feels. “Uh. Wu got it for me. All my things were crushed.”

“That boy has really grown up,” Pema says, even as she yanks Rohan back into his seat, “I think you had a good influence on him.”

“He really has,” Mako says quietly. “No one really gave him a chance. Before. To change, or do anything important. But it was always there.”

She gives him a knowing smile, “He’s lucky to have someone who sees him so clearly. And doesn’t hurt you to be friends with a King and the Avatar!”

“And one of the leaders of the Air Nation,” Mako adds with a smile. “I need to thank you. For letting me stay here for so long. And letting me back into the kitchen. I don’t know how much more sitting around I had in me.”

“I appreciate the help. You’re a good cook, the kids still talk about your dumplings,” Pema laughs, petting over Rohan’s head, “you’re always welcome here.”

She’s said something like it before, of course, but for some reason now it makes Mako’s throat a little tight. The emotion of the night, maybe, and at seeing Wu again and for the first time in months not feeling like there’s something he’s missing. 

“Thanks, Pema,” he says. Green fabric over her shoulder catches his eye, and Mako turns, his heart leaping, only to see some older guy in a bright jade jacket. Not Wu.

Mako bites at his lip, watching people laugh and talk in small clusters. No one is even sitting down yet. They have at least twenty minutes, Mako would guess, before dinner.

Pema is trying to convince Rohan to eat more fruit and clearly doesn’t need his help anymore. Mako watches them for a second, then slips off among the tables. He weaves between fancily dressed guests, many already drunk, or more quickly getting there. It’s loud and bright and Mako only wants to find Wu.

On the other side of the crowd, is Wu with a glass in his hand, nodding along to something that President Raiko is saying. His eyes meet Mako’s over the heads of a group of women, and his lips part. Wu glances at Raiko, then back at Mako and he mouths what looks like “help me.”

Mako bites down on a smile and break through the group with a murmured, “excuse me, ladies,” to drop a hand on Wu’s shoulder. “Hey. We should go sit down.”

“Oh, Mako—” President Raiko starts, but Mako’s already steering Wu away, his heart pounding in his ears.

“I should go, we’ll catch up later, Mr. President,” Wu calls back to Raiko before leaning in to Mako and murmuring, “thank you. He is impossible.”

“Sorry I left you with him,” Mako smiles back at him, tugging Wu away from someone else who raises a hand to catch him as they pass. “You’re popular.”

“The trials of ruling,” Wu says dryly, gaze dancing from person to person as they pass. He looks back at Mako, saying in a serious tone, “make it look like our conversation is vital to the future of the world.”

Mako’s entirely too aware of all the eyes on them. It should stop him from offering Wu his good arm, but they won’t be around people for much longer anyway. Wu takes it, his hands warm and real through the soft fabric of Mako’s suit, and pulls himself in close against Mako’s side. “I’m kidnapping a king. That’s vital.”

“You’re supposed to protect me from kidnapping,” Wu reminds him lightly, “not do it.”

“Doesn’t count if your bodyguard is the one kidnapping you,” Mako breathes, keeping his face as serious as possible. Wu’s fingers slide along his wrist, up under the stiff cuff of his jacket. Intent curls bright and hot under his skin. He dodges another chattering group and tugs Wu toward the darkened steps leading up to the main temple building. It should be empty right now.

“Dinner’s pretty soon,” Mako says as he pushes the door open, checking out of habit to make sure they’re alone, “and if you’d been on time we could’ve done this earlier, but—”

“But you’re taking the opportunity now. I like how you think, big guy,” Wu says with a look in his eyes that’s all too familiar. 

“Big guy,” Mako repeats under his breath, and yanks Wu into a hard kiss. Wu presses into him immediately, a hand sliding up into his hair. His lips are soft and hot and insistent, like he’s been thinking about this just as much as Mako has.

“It’s been a month,” Mako breathes against him, dragging Wu against himself until they’re pressed flush together. 

“Way too long,” Wu groans, pressing against him, then jerks back, eyes wide. “Oh—your arm!”

“It’s fine,” Mako says, and tugs him close again before Wu can protest. His arm is kind of crushed between them and it hurts a bit, but Mako doesn’t even care, not when he finally gets to do this again. Wu’s hand curls behind Mako’s neck and he stays close, holding him tight. 

“I missed you,” Mako murmurs when it finally feels like they’ve started to make up for the last month of not seeing one another.

Wu groans and presses him into another kiss, hard enough that Mako stumbles back against the cool stone wall. “I missed you so much,” Wu’s eyes meet his, green and heated and so close, “I want you so bad, Mako.”

Mako takes pride in his self-control, usually. He tries to think things through before acting, and not make snap decisions that he might regret later. Wu’s made that difficult from the beginning, and now he’s kissing Mako hard and fast, his hand in Mako’s hair. He meant to just pull Wu in here to kiss him so he’d be able to focus on literally anything else during dinner. 

He should’ve known that wouldn’t be enough.

“Dinner,” he murmurs without really meaning it. His arm twinges, and he shifts it as much as he can to kiss Wu again. Wu groans and bites at his lip.

“We can stop,” Wu breathes, but he keeps kissing Mako, hands sliding down the front of his slacks, “if you really wanna.”

Mako bites down on a sharp groan. “I really don’t want to.” 

Wu’s lips drag along the line of his jaw, leaving fire in their wake. “Good,” he sighs, “you’re too handsome in this suit.”

“Whose fault is that?” Mako says, and shoves his hand up under Wu’s fancy jacket. The fabric is delicate and soft and Mako is probably going to wrinkle it but he doesn’t care because Wu is already leaning into his palm. “I can’t believe you sent me an entire suit.”

“You wanted me to send half a suit?” Wu snorts. His hand rubs against Mako’s cock, half hard in his slacks, making him groan against Wu’s lips. “Hm… maybe I only need to take half off,” he pulls back, his eyes bright.

“It took an hour to get the jacket on, so that’s staying,” Mako breathes. He’s a little lost in Wu like this, bright-eyed and grinning and intent. “The rest is yours.”

“The rest is all I need,” Wu’s smile grows. He kisses Mako sweetly before he sinks down to his knees, hands running down Mako’s thighs.

“Wu—” Mako starts, about to protest about his nice suit but Wu’s mouth is already on him through the fabric of his slacks, his breath hot and wet, and Mako groans and lets his head drop back against the wall. He shoves his good hand into Wu’s hair.

“Careful,” Wu breathes, flashing him a smile. He moves Mako’s hand down to the back of his head, “my hair took too long.”

“That why you were late?” Mako drags his palm over the short bits of Wu’s hair instead, bucking his hips forward as Wu’s fingers drag at the hem of his pants. Wu’s barely done anything and Mako is on fire, unable to look away.

Wu only grins, his fingers tugging open Mako’s slacks, pressing them down. His cock bobs against Wu’s cheek and Wu’s breath spills over him, hot and damp and Mako hasn’t seen him in a mouth. He wants Wu, wants him from someplace deep in his gut. 

Wu moans thinly, mouthing over his shaft, his eyes flicking up to Mako’s face. There’s mischief there, a spark that Mako has missed more than he knew.

“Fuck, Wu—” Mako gasps, and then stops thinking entirely because Wu’s lips wrap around him, familiar and hot and tight. He curses again, trying to keep his voice down. Wu’s eyes are still teasing him even as he takes Mako’s cock into his mouth, cock sliding against his tongue, and heat curls through Mako bright and sharp. “This is,” Mako starts, unsteady, breathless, “not going to last—fuck, do that again—”

The lights from the party outside shine through the window, but the hallways of the temple are empty. He moves around Mako’s cock, so familiar and easy and right. This is how their relationship began, Wu on his knees in the dark. But it’s so different now. Now, Wu is the King. Now, Mako doesn’t work for him. Now, Mako loves him, and he knows Wu loves him too, and now Mako knows exactly how much Wu likes doing this.

“I want,” he gasps out, “your hand on yourself,” his words trail into a sharp groan as Wu’s lips slide along his cock again. “Slow. You can’t mess up your suit.”

“Mako,” Wu breathes before running his tongue along Mako’s cock, “Mako, I need you to fuck me before I go back.”

“How long—” Mako bites off another curse, “are you here?”

“I have an airship,” Wu laughs. Mako can see his hand moving on himself, the way his hips twitch forward, rocking against anything he can get. “So, as long as I can swing it.”

Mako could watch him do that forever, but then Wu’s lips are wrapping around his cock again and Mako gets stuck for a moment on the way his eyes flutter shut. “Then,” he gasps, thrusting hard so Wu groans around him, “stay, and I’ll fuck you all you—fuck, want.”

Wu doesn’t answer, he can’t. He takes each of Mako’s thrusts easily, letting him press deeper and deeper into his mouth, his throat. He’s wet and hot and here. Mako gasps out something like his name, short and sharp, and then Wu’s hand wraps around his thigh and squeezes and Mako comes without any warning at all, throwing his head back with a soundless gasp of Wu’s name.

He goes soft in Wu’s mouth, who slowly lets him go, resting his forehead on Mako’s hip as he thrusts into his own hand. “Fuck, fuck,” Wu breathes, and he bites down hard on Mako’s skin to stifle a cry. The pain is almost centering, drags Mako back into his own body as Wu shivers against him.

“C’mere,” Mako murmurs, when Wu goes slack against him. Wu groans, but pushes himself to his feet, falling against the wall next to Mako. He produces a handkerchief from somewhere and wipes off his mouth, then his hand. 

“I needed that,” Wu breathes. His head drops to Mako’s shoulder, and Mako pushes a slow kiss against his temple, leaning into Wu until they’re pressed close together.

“Me too,” he mumbles as his heartrate slowly drops. “That was a long month.”

“Too long. Here,” Wu presses into him, and helps him do up his slacks again before pressing a kiss to Mako’s lips. He stays close, breath spilling over Mako’s chin. He takes time to come down, to remember where his body is in space, after. It helps to have Wu close like this, his hand braced on Mako’s chest above the sling. 

Mako turns his head, nudges his lips into Wu’s hair, damp and curling, and stays there just breathing in the familiar smell of his soap. It smells like home, and Mako doesn’t know exactly when that started happening, but it settles him, somehow. 

The silence stretches, calm and comfortable. It’s just them here, it could be just them on the whole island, but for the lights from the party outside.

Finally, Wu noses against Mako’s cheek, murmuring, “I hope you know that I’m still mad.”

Mako frowns against his cheek. “For the invasion?”

“For this,” Wu touches Mako’s injured arm gently.

Pulling his other arm around Wu’s waist, Mako tugs him close until Wu’s pressed along his front again.

“I had to do it,” he says again, quiet, listening to the echo of their soft voices on the stone. “You get that, right?”

“I do,” Wu’s brows furrow, fingers sliding behind Mako’s head into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, “but… I almost lost you, Mako. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Mako isn’t sure what to call the feeling tugging at his chest. It’s tight and small and strange, and it makes him want to pull Wu closer. Love, maybe. Or guilt, or some strange combination of the two. “I get that,” he murmurs. “I think. But that kind of thing—I’ve almost died… a lot, Wu. I’m used to it.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Wu mumbles against Mako’s throat. He sucks in a heavy breath and pushes back to look Mako in the eyes. “You can’t die on me, okay? I know what you said, but I need you to promise me that you’ll try to stay alive, for me.”

“I’m not trying to almost get myself killed all the time,” Mako mutters, frowning. “It’s not fun for me, it’s just how my life… is.”

Wu’s face falls further, bowing his head. His hands slip off of Mako’s body. “So I just have to wonder, every day, if you’re going to be okay?”

He sounds so sad, and worried, and Mako’s heart twists a little in his own chest. He drags his palm up Wu’s spine until his fingers slide into Wu’s hair, cupping the back of his head. “No. You won’t. That isn’t the point.”

Wu meets his eyes again and Mako is struck by the intensity in them. Wu said he loves Mako over the phone, but the reality of it, here in front of him, is something else. He wonders how long that’s been there, how long he didn’t notice.

“So what is the point?” Wu asks quietly.

Mako sucks in a small, shaky breath. “I’m not going to make you a promise that I can’t be sure that I’ll keep.”

“Mako,” Wu breathes. He nods stiltedly and shifts back into Mako’s space, a hand on his chest. “Okay. As long as you’ll try.”

Mako kisses him, soft and slow, hoping it’ll distract Wu from the sadness creasing his brow. He can’t know that Mako feels lucky to even be here in the temple with his arm wrapped around Wu. Maybe it’s too much right now to tell him about all the smaller times Mako almost didn’t make it: too-cold winters, fights they almost didn’t win, that first year with the Triple Threats where Mako was sustained by determination and anger alone, snapping fire at anyone who looked at Bolin wrong before he learned how much better they fared by banking his rage.

It feels like an unscalable mountain, sometimes, the amount of life in between him and Wu, except Wu understands him anyway. He knows what it’s like to be alone, and have no one on his side.

Wu sighs against him, some of the tension releasing in his body. Mako isn’t sure how long it is that they stay in silence before Wu murmurs, “I didn’t think that I would miss you quite that much. I kept turning around and thinking you’d be there."

“I kept doing the same thing,” Mako says, almost laughing, lifting his head with a smile already tugging at his lips. “I’ve been reading this novel. You’d have a lot of opinions about it. I almost read a part out loud so you could hear it, but.”

The smile on Wu’s lips is soft and real. His fingers pet through Mako’s hair, where it falls over his forehead. “We’re together now. I want to make the most of it.”

Mako grins, and kisses him again.

* * *

They miss dinner. Wu looks heartbroken, clinging to Mako’s good arm. People are already up and dancing, tables empty and forgotten. “But I’m so hungry.”

Mako meets his eyes for a second, biting down on a smile. “I have an idea. C’mon.”

“Yeah?” Wu looks up at him with wide eyes and he holds tighter to Mako’s arm. 

“You don’t even want to hear it first?” Mako asks as he tugs Wu back away from the party and the music. Just in time: someone in fancy clothing with a booming voice has just started tapping on a glass, probably to make a speech.

“It’s your idea,” Wu laughs, following him easily, “I’m sure it’ll be good.”

Mako’s heart thuds into his ribs. Wu and Bolin have that same quality: trust, freely given, that Mako won’t let them down, and sometimes the weight of that settles onto Mako’s shoulders and makes him ache.

He swallows around the feeling. “Strong words from someone who thought my blow-up-the-mech idea was terrible.”

“Hm. Good point,” Wu narrows his eyes, “but I have a feeling this is a good one.”

Mako smiles at him. “It does involve getting you food.”

Somehow, Wu looks even more excited at that.

Mako brings Wu to the kitchen. It doesn’t take long to find the leftover dumplings he and Pema made earlier that day. Not many made it past the combination of Meelo and Rohan, but there are a sizeable stack, and Wu grins when Mako plops them in a steamer to heat them up again. 

Being in here with Wu is much better than listening to speeches about Varrick and Zhu Li and how perfect they are for one another. They sit with the basket of dumplings between them and their feet tangled together, and Wu doesn’t even talk much because he’s too busy shoving dumplings into his mouth and, occasionally, commenting on them like he always does.

“Flavor pillows?” Mako repeats, laughing, as Wu pops the final one into his mouth. “That doesn’t even mean anything.”

“Yes it does,” Wu says through a mouthful. He swallows hugely, “they’re little pillows full of flavor!”

Mako doesn’t mean to laugh at him, exactly, but affection and mirth bubble up faster than he can do anything about it until his laughter is filling the kitchen, helpless. Wu looks annoyed for a minute, then his eyes narrow and he kisses Mako hard, which should stop his laughter, but Mako’s still grinning against his lips.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he mumbles, and kisses Wu again.

“Yes you are,” Wu mutters.

“Well, you’re funny,” Mako informs him. “That’s not my fault.”

“I am pretty funny,” Wu agrees with a little smile, kissing him again. It’s warm in here, and there’s a breeze coming in through the open windows ruffling through Wu’s hair, and Mako would be happy to stay in here with him all night.

Except eventually, Wu sighs and tells Mako they should at least make an appearance at the party, and Mako grumbles but lets Wu help him up so they can head back out. Wu gets pulled away again almost immediately, into conversation with some rich Republic City socialite or another, and Mako has to reassure Bolin that his speech wasn’t terrible even if he cried at the end. It’s okay, though. Mako is less desperate to be near him. They have all night, and Wu’s staying as long as he can.

Wu finds him again a while later standing by himself and watching the dance floor. His cheeks are flushed and he looks more than a little buzzed, and Mako has to bite down on a grin as Wu leans on a nearby chair and says, low, “What’s a guy like you doing all alone back here?”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” Wu shifts to stand next to him, pressing in a little bit before he visibly stops himself. “I missed flirting with you.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever actually done that,” Mako says. 

Wu wrinkles his nose. “I’ve definitely flirted with you. Haven’t I?” He looks aghast, a hand at his heart. “I should fix that!”

“Nope,” Mako says, still trying to hide his smile. Wu does this to him, especially soft and happy as he is. “Just Asami and Korra, and Kuvira, and Madame Chen, and that girl from your class.”

“My mistake. I’ll make up for it,” Wu wavers closer, touching his good arm lightly. “It’s so hard to do this whole King thing without having you there.”

“I don’t know,” Mako meets his eyes. “It sounds to me like you’re doing a pretty great job.”

“You think?” Wu asks, and for once his confident bluster falls away. He really cares what Mako thinks, that Mako thinks he’s doing well.

Mako flips his hand over, curling his fingers around Wu’s arm. “Yeah. We wouldn’t be doing nearly as well without all the aid you sent. People have been trying to talk to you all night. And—my cousin told me how level-headed you were during the whole evacuation. I got to admit, I'm impressed. I think you're gonna make a great leader.” He pauses, and points at him, barely suppressing a grin, trying to push the worry from Wu’s face. “But that doesn't mean I'm gonna set you up with Korra. So don't ask.”

Wu holds his gaze for a long moment, then his eyes narrow and he says evenly, “that's okay, Mako. Sometimes, a good evacuation is its own reward.” 

There’s a heat in his eyes that promises that Wu is going to get him back for that later. Mako’s about to pull him close, tell him exactly how much he isn’t going to be setting Wu up with anyone but him, but Korra’s quiet voice comes from behind him and he takes a step back, his face heating up. Wu looks at him for a moment too long, a small frown on his lips.

“Good to see you, Prince Wu—or should I say King Wu?” Korra grins at them both. She looks nice in her blue dress, if a little tired. Mako can empathize. “You ready to get back to Ba Sing Se and finally, officially take the throne?”

Wu bobs his head, wringing his hands together. “Yeah... about that.” His eyes flick to Mako, lips quirking. “I was actually thinking of stepping down as King and getting rid of the monarchy altogether.”

Mako’s stomach twists. 

“Are you joking?” He demands, his eyebrows up, even though somehow he knows full well Wu isn’t. He wouldn’t joke about something like that, and he’s been talking about not wanting to be king for months now. Mako just thought—well. Mako doesn’t know what he thought. That Wu had no choice. That he was just going to have to find a way to date the Earth King and hope that things didn’t fall apart. If he and Korra could barely manage to be together because of their jobs, Mako had no idea how he was going to keep the same thing from happening.

But this—

He makes himself focus on Wu again as he starts talking, his own heart pounding loud enough in his ears to almost drown him out.

“For once, I'm not. Now, I know what you're gonna say:” Wu says lightly, not looking at Mako, “I'm being lazy, I'm afraid of responsibility, I'm putting my singing career before my people, but it's none of those things.” He glances at Mako, then away again quickly. Mako’s breath catches hard in his throat. “I really think the Earth Kingdom would be better off if the states were independent and had elected leaders like the United Republic.”

Mako wants to kiss him. Or drag him into his arms, or something, but Korra is right there, looking surprised. He clears his throat, and says, trying again for casual and landing somewhere soft, unable to keep the smile off his face, “That's actually pretty wise and mature of you” he grins as Wu’s cheeks flush, resists again the urge to pull him close.

“I think it's a great idea,” Korra says firmly. Mako half-turns to her in surprise. “The Earth Kingdom should evolve, and I'll do everything in my power to help you make that happen.”

“Looking forward to working with you,” Wu shoots finger guns at Korra with a grin that’s too wide and a little strained. His eyes flick to Mako again and then he throws up his arm, “but for now, the dance floor calls!” 

Korra laughs as he leaves, and Mako watches him go, wondering. Wu looked nervous, almost. Mako doesn’t blame him—just dropping that he’s going to give up his throne like that probably wasn’t in his plan, knowing Wu. Maybe he hadn’t meant to say anything. Maybe he’s still worried it’s a terrible idea.

Mako’s about to go after him, pull him off the dance floor again, but Korra’s quiet voice cuts through his thoughts.

“How's the arm?” 

“Much better,” Mako says, and raises it as much as he can as proof. Korra’s eyes soften, but her face is twisted with worry.

“The words ‘thank you’ don't feel big enough for what you did, but I honestly don't know what else to say.” She’s doing the thing again, Mako thinks, where she takes responsibility for everyone else’s choices. Maybe that’s a function of being the Avatar, but he thinks it’s just a Korra thing, really. 

But Mako knows what he did and he knows why he did it. At least she’s thanking him instead of being angry. Korra gets it, though. She has the same tendencies, and Mako hates them in her, hates to see her throw herself into harm’s way again and again like she’s supposed to soak up the world’s problems.

Maybe that’s what Wu was talking about. 

“You don't need to say anything,” he tells her, watching her face twist a little. “I want you to know, I'll follow you into battle no matter how crazy things get. I've got your back and I always will.”

She holds his eyes, then nods gravely. “That means a lot, Mako.” Her lips quirk a little. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

Hesitating, trying not to pay attention to the direction Wu disappeared, Mako holds out his good arm. She smiles, soft and a little sad, and pulls Mako into a hug.

“I’m glad we’re friends, too,” he murmurs against her head. Hugging her like this is so familiar. At one point, he thought she was the only one he ever wanted to hold like this.

A lot has changed, since then. He pulls back with his heart in his throat, smiling softly. “I gotta go check on Wu. He’s gotta be nervous after dropping a bomb like that.”

“You don’t work for him anymore, do you?” Korra asks, a bemused smile on her lips.

Mako blinks.

“You know,” he says, after a moment, “I think I still do. And Beifong isn’t letting me work yet. But that isn’t why. He’s had kind of a rough month. I… want to make sure he’s okay.”

Her smie softens and she nods. “Go on. I need some air anyway."

“Take it easy,” Mako tells her, and grins when she rolls her eyes.

He finds Wu with Ikki, more bouncing in a circle than dancing, and waits until they’re close enough before he taps Ikki’s narrow shoulder. “Can I steal the King for a second?”

Ikki looks up at him with wide eyes, letting go of Wu’s hands. “I’m not going to stand in the way of true love.”

“Ikki,” Mako sighs, but she’s smiling innocently up at them, waving her hands.

“I’m not going to tell anyone! Dance! You have to! It’s the rules.”

Mako narrows his eyes. “Well. If it’s the rules—” he holds out a hand for Wu. Wu stares at him for a second, then smiles, small and a little strained. He takes Mako’s good hand hand, his other palm landing lightly on Mako’s back.

“It is the rules,” Wu agrees, stepping in a little. “I’ll dance with you again, later, princess,” he calls back to Ikki.

“You’re so charming,” Mako murmurs in his ear as Ikki latches onto Huan and yanks him into a dance.

“Can’t help myself around the ladies,” Wu teases. Mako curses his useless arm all over again, because he wants to wrap an arm around Wu, pull him closer as he starts to lead Mako through the very basic steps of some dance Mako doesn’t know. His eyes are locked on Mako’s face. There’s something there, in his eyes, that Mako can’t quite read.

Wu’s a great dancer, smooth and easy and confident. He’s even more flushed than he was earlier, and panting a little from his dancing with Ikki. “You’re abdicating, huh?”

Wu’s lips twist and he nods. His hand is firm on Mako’s back, making it easy for Mako to follow him. He presses and directs Mako with little cues that Mako doesn’t even have to think about. “That’s the plan.”

He pulls Mako into a little turn, slow and steady, and the music shifts, and Mako lets his palm flatten into Wu’s, tangling their fingers together. “When’d you decide that?”

“After about week of trying to be the King,” Wu says on a breath. He’s so close to Mako, close enough to kiss. “I’ve known for ages that I don’t want to be the kind of ruler my aunt was. But after seeing what my advisors wanted from me, I knew it wasn’t right. For me, for the Earth Kingdom,” his eyes drop from Mako’s as he goes on, “I promise I’m not backing out. I really do think it’s the right thing to do.”

“It is,” Mako says, a little soft, swelling with feeling he can’t name. He loves this man so much. Wu won’t meet his eyes, and there’s a little frown tugging his lips down as he leads Mako down the dance floor. “Hey. Look at me.”

After only a second’s hesitation, Wu does. There’s naked emotion in his face: nerves, fear, love.

“I know you’re not backing out,” Mako says firmly. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah?” Wu asks breathlessly.

Mako nods. “I think you’re going to get a lot of pushback,” he says, quiet, “and my grandmother’s probably going to be heartbroken, but—giving your people a voice? That’s incredible, Wu. I didn’t even know you were thinking about it.”

They’re barely dancing now, just swaying together on the edge of the dance floor. The lights reflect in Wu’s too-green eyes.

“The people deserve a voice,” Wu says, barely audible. “You taught me that, Mako.”

Mako’s breath catches. “How’d I do that?”

“Because you’re always right,” Wu’s lips flicker in a tiny smile. “In the Earth Kingdom, you wouldn’t have gotten a say in anything. Your family, they would still be stuck in the Lower Ring. And you: you’re made for so much more than the life you could have there, and I started thinking about all the people out there like you—my point is,” he sucks in a breath, “it doesn’t make sense that people like me get to make all the decisions when people like you would probably do it way better than me.”

“I,” Mako breathes, “want to kiss you.”

Wu groans, swaying into him. He almost kisses Mako then, wavering close to him before he breaks into a grin. “Come with me,” he laughs, grabbing Mako’s hand and pulling him away from the dance floor.

“Where,” Mako starts to ask, and then just lets himself be tugged, his eyes fixed on the back of Wu’s head, the swirl of his hair and the tiny fraction of skin above the collar of his suit. 

“Just wait,” Wu glances around, then turns to the left.

They’re already leaving the music behind again, walking along one of the plant-lined paths. It’s familiar, and for a moment Mako can’t figure out why until they hit the steps.

Wu flashes him a grin and then he’s running, pulling Mako after him. Wu’s laughter breaks through the chill night air, and Mako is laughing with him, pointless and bright, full of emotion.

Wu just manages to beat him to the top, leading Mako into the quiet of the gazebo.

“You win,” Mako says, panting, smiling helplessly as he presses Wu against the railing. The moon hangs low in the sky, turning Wu’s hair to silver at the edges, and Mako kisses him with his heart in his throat, slow and soft. Wu presses into the kiss, hands sliding around Mako’s shoulders, keeping him close.

Mako remembers the last time they were here, months ago. When Wu apologized to him, when Mako first realized how important Wu had become to him, and how little he’d noticed that happening.

He was such an idiot.

“I love you so much,” Wu breathes against his lips. It’s the first time Mako has heard him say that in person, the first time since that phone call, weeks ago now.

Mako drags his thumb over Wu’s cheek. “I love you too,” he murmurs, low. He can’t seem to make himself stop smiling. “’Should’ve told you sooner.”

“Me too,” Wu smiles, soft and easy, and kisses Mako again, “I, I was scared to.”

“Why?” Mako asks quietly, barely above a whisper. It doesn’t matter: they’re close enough, and Mako still wants him closer.

“The people I love,” Wu says slowly, his eyes searching Mako’s face, “they don’t always love me back.”

Mako’s brow furrows. He lets his fingers trail back along Wu’s head, pressing into his hair. “Then they’re idiots.”

Wu laughs quietly, nosing against Mako’s cheek. “Probably. And then you,” he hesitates before going on, “you told me you loved me, and then you almost died. That, Mako,” Wu holds him tighter, fingers digging into his back.

“That’s why I should’ve said something before,” Mako breathes. “I didn’t even think.”

“Clearly,” Wu’s smile is back then, soft and close. He pushes his fingers through Mako’s hair. “I should have too. I’ve loved you for, for so long.”

The words jolt through Mako like lightning, sudden and hot, and he shouldn’t push, but—”How long?”

Wu shakes his head slowly. “I don’t even know when it happened. But I know that when we broke up, it hurt more than it should have, if I wasn’t in love with you.”

“So,” Mako murmurs, “I’m not the only who didn’t notice.”

“I noticed you,” Wu tells him, arching into his body, “I definitely noticed you,” a tiny, teasing smile curves his lips, and Mako has to kiss him for it, grinning right back.

“Yeah, I got that,” he says, dry. “You noticed me so much you hired me out of the newspaper, right?”

“What can I say? I have good taste,” Wu says against his lips.

“Or something,” Mako says dryly. He doesn’t even try to make himself stop smiling. “I know this isn’t why you did it, but. If you’re not going to be the Earth King forever, that makes this a lot easier.”

“That might have crossed my mind,” Wu admits, “but I also think it’s the right thing to do.”

Mako lets his hand trail into Wu’s hair. “You’re gonna be pretty busy, dismantling an entire system of government.”

“Well, when you say it like that,” Wu turns his face into Mako’s hand. “I, yes. It’s going to be hard. But I can do it, as long as, well. As long as I have you.”

Right now, there are a few things Mako knows for certain.

The first thing he knows is that he loves Wu more than he thought it was possible to love someone.

The second is that Wu’s going to make an incredible leader, for however long he actually ends up being one.

The third is that Mako still doesn’t have a clear picture of how they work, in the long term, but he knows in his bones that he needs Wu in his life, like this or over the phone, for good.

“I know,” he says, quiet and slow, with the salt-tang of the ocean on the breeze around them, ruffling Wu’s hair, “what I want. Now.”

“What do you want?” Wu asks breathlessly.

Strains of music filter up from the party below them, caught on the wind, and Wu’s eyes are very green, even in the shadows, fixed on Mako. Waiting. He’s been waiting for months to know what Mako wants.

He sucks in a breath, and pushes a soft kiss to the corner of Wu’s mouth. “You.”

> _You_ by [Kf1n3](https://kf1n3.tumblr.com/post/631001271077355520/i-know-what-i-want-now-you-fanart-for-the-last)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, folks! That's the end.
> 
> 3 months, 32k of cut scenes, hundreds of hours of writing and editing. Along the way, this fic was shared on Twitter, Tumblr, and TikTok. There was fanart drawn and there were inspo fics written. Over 600 beautiful comments from y'all, and we did it.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who came along for this journey! You are wonderful, and were so supportive of us, and every comment, every kudos, every hit, really helped. Y'all are the real MVP.


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